Hetae  »o«te0tott 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

University  of  California. 


Class 


PRINCESS    HELENE   VON    RACOWITZA 


Princess 

Helene  von  Racowitza 


M 


An  Autobiography 


AUTHORISED  TRANSLATION  FROM  THE  GERMAN 


BY 


CECIL    MAR 


NEW  EDITION 


£efo  gotk 

THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

19  1 1 


R3A3 

17/1 


First  published  in  1 910 


US- 


CONTENTS 
PART   I 

WHAT  I   HAVE  TO  SAY 
CHAPTER  I 


PAGE 


A  word  to  the  reader — About  Heredity  and  Suggestion — 
My  father's  family — The  Viking  blood — My  mother's 
family      .......  3 

CHAPTER   II 

My  father's  summons  to  the  Crown  Prince  Max  (later  King 
Max  II.  of  Bavaria) — My  parents'  house  as  regarded  by 
others — Personal  reminiscences  of  young  Paul  Heyse — 
Earliest  friends  of  childhood       ....  8 


PART   II 

CHILDHOOD 

CHAPTER   III 

The  child-soul — In  the  arms  of  Queen  Marie — Playmate  of 

Louis  II. — Parting  from  him       .  .  .  .19 

CHAPTER   IV 

Hans  Christian  Andersen — Wilhelm  von  Kaulbach — Justus 

von  Liebig  .  .  .  .  .  .24 

223337 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 


CHAPTER   V 

PAGE 

Morals  and  Temperament — Study  of  Natural  Sciences — 
Initiation  into  sexual  things — The  germ  laid  of  all  later 
views  of  life  regarding  equality  of  the  sexes  in  matters 
concerning  love  ......         26 

CHAPTER  VI 

Engagement  with  the  old  Colonel  when  twelve  years  of  age — 
Impression  at  this  early  age  on  friends  of  the  family — 
My  faithful  Therese        .....         SO 

CHAPTER  VII 

To  Berlin  with  Grandmamma — Renewed  studies — First  flirta- 
tion— Awakening  interest  for  the  stage  and  theatrical 
artists — Yanko  Gehan  Racowitza  .  .  .35 


PART   III 

INTOXICATION  OF  YOUTH 

CHAPTER  VIII 

Home  again — In  the  great  world  of  Turin — Meeting  my 

fiance  once  more — Painful  times  in  consequence  .         41 

CHAPTER  IX 

Removal  to  Nice — Life  there  in  riotous  living — Lord  Bulwer 
Lytton — Meyerbeer — Baroness  Cruvelli  -  Vigier — Lady 
Brougham — Empress  Nicholas  of  Russia — Grand  Duchess 
Marie  —  Grand  Duchess  Helene,  and  her  mental 
superiority  .  .  .  .  .  .44 

CHAPTER  X 

First   love — Baron   Paul   von   Krusenstern   and   Ernst  von 
Kotzebue — Breaking    off    my    engagement    with    the 
Colonel   .......         51 

vi 


CONTENTS 
CHAPTER  XI 

PAGE 

Love's  madness — Relentless  behaviour  of  my  parents  towards 

this  first  love — What  followed  much  later  .  .         57 


CHAPTER  XII 

Napoleon  and  the  Empress  Eugenie — Infidelity  almost 
trained  to  become  second  nature — Fanatical  love  of 
truth — End  of  youth's  mad  dream  .  .  .61 


PART  IV 

YANKO  VON  RACOWITZA  AND  FERDINAND  LASSALLE 
A  few  introductory  words       .  .  .  .  .67 

CHAPTER  XIII 

In  Berlin  once  more  —  Yanko  my  page  and  spiritual 
possession — At  Master  W.  von  Kaulbach's — President 
Bonseri — Baron  von  KorfF  and  other  friends  of  Lassalle         69 

CHAPTER  XIV 

First  meeting  with  Ferdinand  Lassalle — Study  of  Lassalle's 
works — Old  Councillor  Boeckh  and  his  eulogies  of 
Lassalle — Heinrich  Heine's  letter  about  Lassalle  to 
Varnhagen  von  Ense — Bismarck  on  Lassalle — Solicitor 
Holthoff 76 

CHAPTER   XV 

Grandmamma's  illness  and  death — Yanko's  promise  at  her 
death-bed — My  return  home  to  Switzerland — Society  in 
Geneva — My  journey  to  Berne — Review  of  Lassalle's 
activity — Bismarck  in  the  eyes  of  Lassalle — Something 
of  George  Brandes  on  Lassalle    .  .  .  .92 

vii 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOW1TZA 


CHAPTER  XVI 


PAGE 


How  I  found  Lassalle  once  more  in  Rigi  Kaltbad — The 
Americans'  opinion  of  Lassalle — My  indecision,  and 
fear  of  my  parents  regarding  Lassalle's  persuasions — 
Farewell,  with  the  promise  of  a  decision  .  .         97 


CHAPTER  XVII 

My  letter  to  Holthoff — Communication  to  Yanko  of  my 
approaching  engagement  to  Lassalle — My  consent  to 
Lassalle — About  some  of  Lassalle's  letters  during  our 
short  parting       .  .  .  .  .  .106 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

Lassalle's  arrival — The  brief  delight  of  the  days  in  Wabern — 
"  Julian  Schmidt "  and  Lassalle's  meeting  with  him — 
"Might  and  Right" — Lassalle  about  the  Countess 
Hatzfeld — A  letter  from  him  about  the  latter — 
Lassalle's  thoughts  of  the  future — Something  about 
his  triumphs  on  the  Rhine  .  .  .  .113 


CHAPTER  XIX 

In  the  moonlight — "  Like  gods  they  wandered  forth — and 
how  did  they  return  ?  " — Some  fragments  of  Lassalle's 
letters  to  Countess  Hatzfeld  about  our  engagement — 
Full  confidence  in  her  and  "  Papa  Holthoff" — Farewell       121 


CHAPTER  XX 

My  sad  return  home — The  struggle  begins — My  flight — In 
the  hotel — Lassalle's  extraordinary  behaviour  and  mad 
faith  in  his  destiny — Meeting  with  my  mother — 
Lassalle  forces  me  to  return  to  my  parents — My 
imprisonment — Lassalle's  boundless  filial  love  for  his 
own  parents  the  only  comprehensible  excuse — Some  of 
his  intimate  letters  about  this     .  .  .  .131 

viii 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XXI 

PAGE 

My  anguish  of  soul — HolthofFs  double  play — Desperate 
sorrows  of  heart — My  weakness  and  renunciation — I  am 
taken  to  Bex  disguised  as  in  the  Middle  Ages — Yanko 
appears  as  deliverer         .  .  .  .  .142 

CHAPTER  XXII 

Yanko's  noble  offer — My  acquiescence — Holthoff 's  letters  to 

me — Lassalle's  letters  and  the  letter  of  old  Boeckh       .        147 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

Lassalle  leaves  Geneva — Some  fragmentary  letters  to  me, 
which  I  never  received — Beginning  of  the  Countess's 
dreadful  influence  in  our  affairs — My  indignation  at 
this — The  steps  Lassalle  took,  unknown  to  me  at  the 
time,  with  Bishop  Ketteler  in  Mayence,  and  the  King 
of  Bavaria — Disastrous  interference  of  third  persons — 
My  father's  dictation — Lassalle's  last  doubts  as  to  its 
validity — The  false  friends  are  victorious — My  apathy 
of  soul — The  final  discussion  with  the  envoys     .  1 62 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

Lassalle's  challenge — Accepted  by  Yanko — My  feelings  be- 
fore the  duel — The  duel — The  result  of  the  same — 
Lassalle's  death — The  conclusion  of  Lassalle's  self- 
characterisation  in  a  remarkable  letter  to  an  unknown 
person — A  question  addressed  to  Fate    .  .  .174 

CHAPTER   XXV 

Why,  in  spite  of  everything,  I  married  Yanko — His  fatal 
illness — In    Rumania — The  wedding  and  evil  omen — 
Terrible  honeymoon — Our  travels  in  search  of  recovery 
for  the  patient — Alone  with  strangers — Blessed  assist- 
ance  from  the   German  Consul  in    Corfu — Our   flight 
homewards — Yanko's   death   and   its   consequences   in 
Bologna  .......        181 

ix 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

PAGE 

Arrival  in  San  Francisco — Magnificent  impression — American 
hotels  and  cooking — Stay  with  the  custodian  of  the 
University — In  the  so-called  "  Old  Mission  " — Baron 
von  Behr,  Rector  of  the  University,  as  a  true  Jesuit — 
Dr.  Ahlers  and  his  highly  interesting  remembrances  of 
the  early  days  of  San  Francisco — Seeking  of  gold  and 
precious  stones — The  seals  at  Cliff  House — Jimmy,  my 
Chinese  friend — With  the  detective  through  Chinatown 
— In  the  opium  dens — In  the  brothel — Oakland  the 
beautiful  .  .  .  .  .  .314 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

The  American  stage — Why  I  did  not  join  it — An  adventure 
with  serpents — Departure  from  beloved  San  Francisco 
— Return  to  the  East — What  happened  to  Serge  during 
this  time — At  the  Milwaukee  Theatre — English  appear- 
ance— St.  Louis — Dr.  Nagel,  my  father's  friend — His 
interesting  life — Fritz  Hecker,  the  old  revolutionist,  as 
farmer— Others  of  1848 — Dr.  Pretorius — Fanny  Vanus- 
chek 334 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

Return  to  New  York — Beginning  of  my  literary  career — 
American  marriage  to  Serge — The  "  Northern  Sphinx," 
Madame  Helena  Petrowna  Blavatsky  —  The  new 
trousers,  or  "  One  can  do  all  one  intends  doing  " — With 
the  deaf  and  dumb,  blind  and  idiotic — At  the  New 
York  University  as  medical  student — Studies  of  painting        348 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

Serge  as  people's  orator — Henry  George,  and  debates  with 
him — Police    fray — Fraulein    Ottilie    Assing   and    the 
negro   Fred  Douglas — American  racial  hatred — Vasilli 
Vereschtschagin  in  New  York,  and  American  ideas  of 
art  at  that  time  ......       363 

xii 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XL 


PAGE 


Some  comical  real  American  experiences — Departure  from 

America  .  .  .  .  .  .  .381 


PART   VIII 

BACK  TO  EUROPE 

CHAPTER   XLI 

Scotland  —  London  —  Rewedded  —  Reunion  with  Madame 
H.  P.  Blavatsky — Return  to  Russia — Riga,  and  the 
kindnesses  we  met  with  there — Severe  illness  and 
journey  to  Berlin — The  anxious  pilot — Preparation  for 
the  operation      .  .  .  .  .  .389 

CHAPTER  XLII 

Councillor  Dr.  Olshausen,  the  kind,  genial  operator — One 
chance  in  a  hundred  of  saving  my  life — In  spite  of 
everything,  recovery — Our  travels  .  .  .       400 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

Settled  in  Munich — Intercourse  with  Bjornstjerne  Bjornson 
— Through  his  intervention,  interesting  correspondence 
with  Amely  Skram,  the  great  Danish  authoress — 
Serge's  literary  activity — Franz  von  Lenbach — Helene 
Boehlau,  Frau  Al-Raschid  Bey — Meeting  with  Baron 
Korff 405 


Conclusion    .  .  .  .  .  .  .       419 


xin 


PART  I 

What  I  have  to  say — Why  I  say  it — Theories  of  Sugges- 
tion and  Heredity — My  old  home,  and  what  people 
said  about  it — Memories  of  Paul  Heyse. 


CHAPTER  I 

The  following  sketches  are  not  intended  for  timid 
souls  or  conventional  thinkers,  nor  for  those  who  are 
prudishly  inclined  or  narrow-minded.  Such  people 
had  better  not  take  up  this  book, — not  even  glance 
through  its  pages — for  the  result  might  be  vexation 
of  spirit ! 

My  aim  is  not  to  shock  my  readers,  but  to  warn 
them  of  certain  things  in  life  which  are  better 
avoided,  or  maybe  to  prove  to  them  that,  after  all,  the 
best  thing  life  contains  is  courage  to  uphold  truth, 
and  to  avoid  lying  in  word  and  deed.  This  increases 
one's  self-respect,  helps  one  to  keep  friends  and  to 
appreciate  them  when  one  has  found  them. 

The  following  reminiscences  of  a  stormy  life  are 
offered  for  emancipated  people — to  those  independent 
souls  who,  having  reached  the  pinnacle  which  stands 
above  all  conventions,  look  forward  to  the  time  when 
each  one  will  be  free  to  form  his  own  life  according 
to  his  individuality,  untrammelled  by  social  or 
family  prejudices ;  and  to  those  who  look  forward 
to  the  time  when  woman  will  be  no  longer  regarded 
as  a  household  drudge,  but  as  the  comrade  of  man, 
not  as  his  mere  instrument  of  pleasure — or  maybe 
even  as  his  enemy. 

Let  me  therefore  once  more  warn  those  who  are 
easily  shocked  not  to  read  I 

To  the  free  and  courageous  I  say  "Read,"  but 
read  with  the  desire  to  understand  the  true  nature 

3 


PlilNCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

of :  the  author,  asr  she  follows  the  path  traced  for  her 
fey  Fate,  from  heights  to  depths — even  to  the  verge 
of  the  mire.  The  road  leads  eventually  towards  the 
Light,  and  remains  therein  I 

I  have  tried  in  these  pages  not  to  make  myself 
better  than  I  am — but  also  not  to  depict  myself 
worse,  as  many  people  have  often  shown  me. 

I  must  also  beg  for  the  wider  toleration  of  my 
readers  who  wander  through  life's  paths  with  me, 
if  I  find  myself  obliged  to  write  about  my  personal 
charms  with  the  same  impartial  frankness  as  I  do 
of  my  faults,  failings,  and  good  qualities.  I  am  com- 
pelled to  do  this,  as  my  personal  appearance  has 
played  such  a  prominent  part  in  my  life ;  I  am  able 
to  do  this  because,  in  the  first  place,  I  am  now  an  old 
woman,  with  hardly  the  remnants  of  my  once  vaunted 
beauty,  and  also  because,  even  in  the  hey-day  of  my 
youth,  I  attached  no  great  importance  to  it,  but 
accepted  it,  like  all  beautiful  things  belonging  to  me, 
as  a  matter  of  course. 

Indeed,  I  sometimes  asked  myself,  "Would  you 
admire  yourself  if  you  met  yourself  as  a  stranger  ? " 
I  found  no  answer  to  this  query,  and  left  the  opinion 
of  my  beauty  to  others, — wearing  it  myself  with  a 
careless  sovereignty. 

In  apologising  for  this  I  must  again  beg  the 
reader  to  understand  the  real  reason  why  I  so  often — 
objectively — speak  of  it. 

I  should  like  to  explain  why  I  so  often  mention 
the  people  who  played  a  role  in  my  life  more  by 
initial  letter  than  by  name.  It  is  because  those  who 
are  still  living,  and  are  not  connected  in  any  way  with 
art  or  literature,  might  prefer  it.  I  therefore  mention 
the  full  names  only  of  those  who  are  well  known  to 
the  world.  I  have  nothing  detrimental  to  say  of  any 
of  them,  therefore  they  cannot  object. 

Does  my  story  contain  anything  important  enough 
to  interest  mankind — or  perchance  to  help  any  reader 
over  a  dark  hour  ?     Yes,  I  think  so. 

4 


HEREDITY  AND  SUGGESTION 

Knowledge  of  human  nature  would  be  a  very 
simple  art,  if  man  were  an  utterly  different  being  at 
different  periods  of  his  life,  for  we  should  content 
ourselves  with  saying,  "  He  is  as  he  is,  because  he 
utilised  these  or  those  circumstances  or  natural 
gifts."  Even  if  the  result  were  no  complete  whole, 
we  should  seek  nothing  further  than  that  which  lies 
on  the  surface. 

Whereas  there  is  still  so  much  left  that  is 
mysterious  and  hidden  from  our  gaze  and  intuitive 
perceptions,  that  real  knowledge  of  human  nature  is 
perhaps  the  most  difficult  problem  that  presents  itself 
to  the  penetrating  student  mind  of  man. 

For  instance,  there  is  the  theory  of  heredity. 

Can  we  tell  from  which  unknown  ancestor  we 
have  inherited  this  vice  or  that  virtue  ? 

Or  do  we  know  anything  of  the  influences,  evil  or 
good,  to  which  the  being  we  might  be  analysing 
was  subjected  ? 

Can  we  explain  the  power  of  hypnotic  suggestion, 
or  the  undoubted  power  often  wielded  by  a  strong, 
if  evil,  soul  on  another  of  superior  quality,  which  is 
nevertheless  unable  to  withdraw  itself  from  the 
influence  of  that  other  ?  No  !  We  know  nothing 
about  all  this — or  practically  nothing. 

To  return  to  the  theory  of  heredity.  The  wisdom 
of  ancient  India  affirms  that  each  individual  is  allowed 
the  choice  of  its  parents  or  ancestors,  but  that  in  our 
present  existence  we  have  no  knowledge  of  this 
choice.  Until  a  short  time  ago,  we  Europeans  knew 
nothing  about  this  theory. 

We  are  souls  or,  according  to  Goethe,  "intelli- 
gences" compelled  by  previous  existences,  and  the 
qualities  and  defects  we  then  appropriated  to  ourselves, 
to  reincarnate  exactly  as  we  do. 

This  may  be  the  secret  of  psychic  inheritance 
which  we  often  look  for  in  the  opposite  scientific 
theory  of  physical  heredity. 

As  the  former  is   too  occult  to  admit  of  more 

5 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

than  mere  allusion  in   these  pages,    I    must,   since 
I  am  writing  Memoirs,  confine  myself  to  the  latter. 


A  strange  mixture  of  blood  flows  in  my  veins. 
My  father's  family  was  originally  a  Swedish-Norwegian 
one — the  Tonniges  (as  they  were  then  called,  and 
as  a  branch  of  it  is  still  named)  were  direct 
descendants  of  the  Vikings,  and  the  fiercest  blood 
of  the  wild  Norsemen  ran  in  their  veins. 

This  was  distinctly  noticeable  in  my  father,  who 
in  joy,  as  well  as  in  rage,  knew  no  middle  course. 
When  mastered  by  indignation,  he  gave  way,  as 
I  have  often  witnessed,  to  ungovernable  fury.  When 
the  ancient  Vikings  migrated  to  Germany,  their 
Northern  ferocity  ought  to  have  spent  itself  in  the 
taming  process  of  the  Prussian  discipline,  for  most 
of  them  entered  the  Prussian  state  service.  On  the 
maternal  side,  my  father  was  descended  from  Lucas 
Kranach,  and  most  of  the  members  of  his  side  of 
the  family  were  dignitaries  of  Church  or  State.  Un- 
fortunately in  my  father's  case,  Norse  blood  alone 
seemed  to  flow,  and  to  be  transmitted  to  me,  his 
first  child. 

There  is  a  story  told  in  the  family  about  this 
"Viking  blood." 

We  once  met  a  very  old  relation  in  Nice  belonging 
to  the  branch  of  the  family  that  wrote  the  name  with 
a  "  T,"  and  had  settled  in  the  south  of  France. 

The  old  Baron  Tonniges  was  a  tall,  well-built  man 
— an  "  original."  He  was  dressed  in  the  fashion  of  the 
'forties — high,  twisted,  batiste  neckerchief,  long  coat 
and  vest — and  excited  no  little  astonishment  in  the 
minds  of  his  younger  relatives.  His  punctilious 
politeness  was  such  that  when  my  two  youngest 
sisters,  then  aged  four  and  five,  stood  up,  he,  then  a 
man  of  seventy,  rose  also  to  show  his  respect  for  the 
sex,  and  remained  standing  until  the  little  ones  had 
either  reseated  themselves  or  left  the  room.     To  all 

6 


THE  VIKING  BLOOD 

of  us  he  was  le  vieux  cousin  and  a  rather  comical 
person. 

Once  the  old  man  told  us  an  extraordinary  story 
of  how,  when  he  and  his  twin  sister  were  about  three 
years  old,  they  fought  to  such  an  extent  that  they 
had  to  be  kept  apart  lest  they  should  kill  one  another. 
Their  mutual  hatred  was  such  that  they  had  to  eat 
at  separate  tables  ;  even  the  presence  of  their  parents 
could  not  keep  this  hatred  within  bounds.  From 
their  third  year  they  never  spoke  to  each  other. 
They  are,  unfortunately,  not  the  only  examples  of 
this  kind ;  the  same  evil  passions  play  a  part  in  my 
family  to  this  day,  and  to  them  Lermontov's  words 
may  be  applied — "  Great  am  I  in  love  as  in  hatred." 
These  Memoirs  will  show  to  what  extent  I  was 
dominated  by  the  Viking  blood. 

But  to  return  to  my  parents.  The  "Young 
Savage,"  as  my  father's  intimate  friends  called  him 
in  his  university  days,  fell  madly  in  love  at  the  age 
of  twenty rfour,  and  married  my  mother  notwithstand- 
ing the  opposition  of  both  families. 

My  mother  belonged  to  one  of  the  old  and  highly 
cultured  Jewish  families  in  Berlin,  whose  members, 
during  the  eighteenth  century,  gave  to  the  world 
philosophers  and  poets, — such  as  the  Ashers,  Mendels- 
sohns,  Beers,  and  even  Heinrich  Heine. 

Her  delightful  home  was  the  resort  for  eminent 
artists  and  brilliant  women,  such  as  Henriette  Herz, 
Ilahel,  etc. — and  for  those  then  known  in  Berlin  as 
the  "Aesthetes."  Her  mother,  my  adored  grand- 
mother, was  one  of  the  most  beautiful,  witty,  and 
highly  educated  women  of  her  day,  accomplished  alike 
in  music,  philosophy,  and  literature. 

Her  family  was  as  proud  as  any  noble  one  of  its 
pure  Semitic  blood,  and  could  boast  of  the  ancient 
privilege  of  placing  the  "hands  of  blessing"  upon 
their  graves. 


CHAPTER  II 

My  youthful  parents,  who  adored  each  other,  went 
to  Munich  at  the  wish  of  the  Crown  Prince  Max 
of  Bavaria  who  reigned  as  king  from  1848-63. 
Previous  to  this,  at  the  age  of  twenty-three,  my 
father  had  been  appointed  Professor  of  History  at  the 
Berlin  University. 

His  subsequent  career  in  the  service  of  the  kings 
Max  II.  and  Louis  II.,  was  passed  partly  in  the 
Foreign  Office,  and  partly  as  the  representative  of 
Bavaria  at  foreign  courts,  until  his  death  in  J872. 

I  quote  these  facts  from  notes  in  an  old  family 
chronicle  which  unfortunately  has  been  lost. 

I  must  now  condense  a  few  facts  which  may 
describe  my  old  home,  and  will  quote  what  friends 
have  said  about  the  house  of  Donniges, — and  about 
my  father  in  his  official  capacity. 

"The  sudden  death  of  Donniges,  our  Minister 
to  Italy,  of  smallpox,  reminds  us  of  the  time  when, 
as  a  young  man,  he  first  came  to  Munich,  and  in- 
augurated a  scheme  of  work  which  proved  most 
beneficial.  If  Bavaria,  during  the  decisive  years  of 
war,  remained  true  to  the  Empire,  it  was  due  to  the 
initiative  of  Munich ;  and  as  this  was  of  the  greatest 
importance  to  Germany,  Donniges'  activity  deserves 
recognition. 

"  When  a  young  Professor  in  Berlin,  he  was  chosen 
as  tutor  to  the  Crown  Prince  of  Bavaria,  who  was  an 
enthusiastic  admirer  of  his  frank  and  genial  nature, 
and  of  his  cultivated  mind.     When  the  Crown  Prince 

8 


MY  FATHERS  CAREER 

Max  returned  to  Bavaria  after  his  marriage  with  the 
Prussian  Princess  Marie,  he  requested  Alexander  von 
Humboldt  to  recommend  him  a  man  able  to  help 
him  in  his  studies,  and  to  be  at  the  same  time  his 
counsellor  and  friend. 

"  Humboldt  proposed  Von  Donniges,  who  at  once 
went  with  his  young  wife  to  Munich,  where  he 
occupied  a  most  influential  position  when  Max  II. 
ascended  the  throne.  It  was  he  who  guided  the 
Cabinet  more  or  less,  who  summoned  to  the  University 
and  the  Court  the  brilliant  assembly  of  eminent  men 
of  science,  philosophy,  literature,  and  art — prominent 
among  them  being  Liebig,  PfeifTer,  Carriere, 
Bluntschli,  Dingelstedt,  Geibel,  Heyse,  and  many 
others — and  who  helped  to  form  the  King's  mind,  and 
make  the  epoch  unforgettable  for  all  who  were 
connected  with  it. 

"  Donniges  was  prime  mover  in  most  things,  when 
at  the  Court  gatherings  scientific  problems  were 
discussed  and  defined,  new  theories  propounded,  new 
poems  read.  He  was  also  the  life  and  soul  of  the 
autumn  hunting  parties  where  the  King  was  on 
friendly  terms  with  those  around  him.  The  opposi- 
tion party  known  as  the  '  Blacks '  wrote,  however,  in 
their  jealousy :  •  A  duobus  D  et  uno  T,  Libera  nos 
Domine.' 

"The  two  D's  were  Donniges  and  Dingelstedt, 
the  T  was  Von  der  Tann,  then  the  King's  adjutant 
and  Donniges'  intimate  friend,  who  proved  himself 
so  capable  as  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  Bavarian 
Army  in  1870. 

"Of  course  all  the  native  talent  of  Bavaria  gravi- 
tated round  these  chosen  few, — names  such  as  Kaul- 
bach  and  Schwind  may  here  be  cited.  It  was  not 
astonishing  that  Munich  soon  attracted  universal 
attention  as  a  centre  of  art,  and  thus  the  character  of 
its  inhabitants  was  modified  and  changed  in  a  manner 
not  unimportant  to  the  development  of  German 
history." 

9 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

In  his  own  house,  my  father  was  invariably 
amiable,  gay,  and  a  perfect  host,  ably  seconded  by  his 
clever  wife,  and  their  house  parties  brought  together 
the  elite  of  the  aristocracy,  as  well  as  the  most 
eminent  minds  of  the  day. 

His  life  was  thus  entirely  absorbed  by  two  interests 
— his  state  and  personal  duties  at  Court,  and  the 
cultivation  of  his  own  interesting  social  circle.  There 
was  no  time  left  for  his  children,  except  the  moments 
when  we — and  especially  I — saw  him  as  host  in  his 
own  drawing-room. 

My  mother  was  as  fully  occupied,  for  very  soon 
she  became  the  intimate  friend  of  the  Queen ;  and 
her  children  were  left  entirely  to  the  charge  of  tutors 
and  governesses. 

Dingelstedt,  who  considered  that  with  my  father's 
departure  from  Munich  the  most  hospitable  and  in- 
teresting salon  there  ceased  to  exist,  wrote  the 
following  about  my  parents  in  the  Munich  Picture 
Book : — 

"  I  felt  most  at  home  and  happiest  at  the  Donniges', 
whose  bright  and  charming  wife  Franziska  furthered 
my  interests  among  all  classes  with  the  greatest 
energy.  She  upheld  me  through  joy  and  sorrow  at  a 
time  when  I  was  a  victim  of  Court  intrigues,  woven 
with  the  deftness  of  a  Penelope,  which  almost  decided 
me  to  leave.  Donniges  also  stood  by  me  then  through 
thick  and  thin." 

In  those  days  father  and  mother  seemed  to  me  an 
ideal  couple.  During  the  short  hours  we  were 
together  my  beautiful  and  amiable  mother  was 
kindness  itself,  playful  and  indulgent,  even  in  my 
maddest  moods. 

I  admired  papa's  cleverness,  and  was  fascinated  by 
his  beautiful  voice ;  it  rings  still  in  my  memory  as 
clearly  as  in  my  childhood's  days,  when  he  used  to 
tell  me  fairy  tales,  or  vied  with  his  guests  in  improvis- 
ing and  composing  verses. 

At  his  famous  evening  parties,  when  all  "New 

10 


MY  PARENTS7  HOUSE 

Munich  "  was  present,  it  often  happened  that  towards 
the  end  of  supper,  warmed  by  my  father's  celebrated 
"bowl,"  by  the  fiery  glances  of  pretty  women,  and  the 
animated  conversation  of  witty  men,  he  or  Dingelstedt 
gave  a  theme  which  was  taken  up  by  one  of  the  poets 
present,  and  treated  for  hours  in  improvised  verse  full 
of  wit. 

Let  me  quote  a  few  words  to  show  how  all  this 
impressed  outsiders.  Baron  Otto  von  Voldendorff 
says  in  his  Chit-chat  of  an  old  Munich  Citizen  : 

"  Frau  von  Donniges,  who  was  so  greatly  gifted, 
was,  perhaps  even  more  than  her  clever  husband,  the 
centre  of  that  brilliant  circle,  which  a  jovial  monarch 
had  attracted  to  his  capital  in  the  'fifties.  The  follow- 
ing lines  are  written,  not  only  in  honour  and  gratitude 
to  the  departed,  but  as  the  memento  of  a  memorable 
period  in  the  history  of  Munich." 

Let  me  pass  over  the  political  and  intellectual, 
and  confine  myself  to  the  social  life,  whose  brilliant 
centre  was  to  be  found  in  "  New  Amalia  Street, 
No.  66." 

The  Munich  citizen,  as  are  all  South  Germans,  is 
a  homely  being,  rather  exclusive,  and  not  at  all 
hospitable. 

Thirty  years  ago,  almost  the  only  evening  parties 
were  given  in  the  salons  of  the  haute  volee.  Daily 
social  intercourse  was  almost  unknown.  Frau  von 
Donniges  had  the  courage  to  introduce  among  us  the 
Berlin  "tea  evenings,"  but  she  was  too  sensible  to 
give  us  the  spree-soirees  with  their  weak  tea,  mild 
poetry,  cold  collations,  and  barren  intellectual  ex- 
change. It  is  true  that  the  tea-urn  sang  in  her 
hospitable  drawing-room,  but  this  was  a  mere  detail, 
as  an  excellent  supper  was  provided  with  Bavarian 
beer,  and  a  "bowl"  brewed  from  the  host's  special 
recipe,  moreover  cigars  were  allowed.  Those  evenings 
will  never  be  forgotten  by  those  who  had  the  privilege 
of  being  admitted  to  the  charmed  circle,  where  intellect, 
wit,  and  art  ruled  the  hours.     Hardly  any  celebrity 

11 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

who  passed  through  Munich  in  those  days  failed 
to  become  a  visitor  in  Frau  Franziska's  drawing- 
room. 

The  reception-rooms  were  furnished  according 
to  the  ideas  of  elegance  then  prevailing.  Nowadays, 
when  Gothic  and  Renaissance  Art  treasures  adorn  so 
many  homes,  the  red  velvet  drawing-room  furniture, 
long  etageres,  and  straight  looking-glasses,  the  boudoir 
with  its  blue  wall  paper  and  Napoleonic  sofa,  and  the 
dining-room  with  its  sphinx  clock  and  stiff-legged 
chairs  and  tables,  would  appear  tasteless.  But  in 
those  days  one  knew  no  better  ;  it  seemed  then  of 
more  importance  that  the  occupant  of  a  chair  should 
be  clever  and  amusing  than  that  the  chair  itself  should 
be  of  a  certain  design.  Any  acquaintance  was  free  to 
appear  every  evening  that  Frau  Franziska  was  at 
home.  This  fact  could  be  ascertained  from  the  street 
by  the  lighted  windows.  Twice  a  week  one  was  quite 
sure  to  find  the  mistress  of  the  house,  and  the  host 
also,  provided  no  command  of  the  king  caused  his 
absence.  Conversation  was  general.  People  sat,  or 
came  and  went  as  they  liked,  conversed  with  whom 
they  chose,  seldom  leaving  before  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  A  special  programme  was  always  observed 
on  Monday  evenings, — a  lecture,  or  a  reading  by 
various  guests  in  turn. 

Frau  von  Donniges  received  her  guests  with  a 
friendly  handshake,  whilst  her  husband  gave  a  satirical 
and  good-humoured  greeting. 

It  was  on  these  evenings  that  I  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  many  famous  men,  poets  and  artists, 
and  learnt  the  art  of  conversation.  If  a  stranger  was 
present,  the  evening  was  devoted  to  him.  On  one 
occasion  Hans  Andersen  told  us  his  charming  fairy 
tales  ;  on  another,  Rubinstein  let  loose  a  volume  of 
sound  under  his  magical  ringers  ;  or  Hebbel,  with  his 
vast  projecting  forehead,  read  to  us,  as  if  volcanic 
power  animated  his  glorious  dramas. 

It  was  indeed  worth  while  sharpening  one's  wit  in 

12 


DR.  GEMMINGER 

a  company  of  beautiful  women  such  as  that  by 
which  the  Donniges  were  habitually  surrounded. 

Sometimes  charades  were  acted  (not  the  usual 
kind  resorted  to  by  those  who  use  them  as  a  last 
resource  on  stupid  evenings)  ;  those  acted  in  this 
house  were  more  like  the  famous  commedie  di 
repente  when  Philip  IV.  heard  the  plays  flow  first 
in  improvised  rhyme  from  the  lips  of  his  ingenui 
Calderon,  Cervantes,  and  Lope  de  Vega,  before  they 
were  acted  in  public.  Strange  to  say,  it  was  the 
serious  lawyer  Bluntschli  who  was  the  most  eager  to 
enter  the  lists.  He  devoted  himself  as  zealously  to 
this  task,  as  he  did  to  his  legal  work.  It  amused  him 
to  match  his  wit  against  the  others,  and  merriment 
reigned  supreme. 

Sometimes  the  hostess  would  say,  "  Children, 
to-day  I  have  a  surprise  in  store  for  you ! "  In  one 
instance  this  proved  to  be  the  famous  hunter  and 
naturalist,  Dr.  Gemminger,  who  brought  with  him  a 
small  bat  which  he  thought  would  interest  those 
present.  Shrieks  arose  from  all  the  ladies,  who 
hastened  to  protect  their  hair  with  handkerchiefs, 
fichus,  or  mantillas  1 

"  Oh  1  My  bat  does  not  merit  such  a  reception," 
said  Dr.  Gemminger ;  "  she  is  as  illustrious  among 
her  species  as  a  Liebig,  a  Kaulbach,  or  a  Bluntschli 
here!" 

The  ladies  were  consoled,  and  the  Doctor  took  a 
little  bat  out  of  his  coat  pocket,  and  placed  it  in  his 
hand.  The  little  animal  looked  round,  flew  about 
the  room,  approaching  all  objects  with  the  curiosity 
peculiar  to  the  species,  but  without  touching  any- 
thing. Then  it  circled  round  the  chandelier,  and 
upon  a  whistle  from  its  master  returned  at  once  to 
his  hand,  where  it  quietly  supped  on  a  meal-worm 
and  drank  water  from  a  tiny  bowl,  looked  at  all 
present  with  its  clever,  old-fashioned  little  face,  then 
disappeared,  amid  universal  admiration,  into  the 
naturalist's   coat   pocket.      He   was   proud   to   have 

13 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

proved  that  even  a  bat  can  sometimes  be  superior  to 
its  reputation. 

Everything  that  happened  in  this  brilliant  circle 
was  as  original  as  this  little  bat  episode  ;  even  in 
the  game  of  "  Consequences "  the  questions  were 
answered  by  witty  remarks  or  rhymed  sentences. 
Kaulbach,  instead  of  using  words,  expressed  himself 
by  means  of  delightful  drawings.  During  supper  a 
battle  of  wits  was  kept  up,  but  political  and  scientific 
questions  also  were  frequently  discussed.  Deep 
silence  reigned  when  the  poets  Geibel,  Dingelstedt, 
Heyse,  and  Bodenstedt  began  to  improvise.  What 
costly  gems  of  poetry  were  strewn  on  these  occasions, 
which  unfortunately  were  never  handed  down  to 
posterity!  Only  the  enthusiastic  praise  of  those 
present  rewarded  the  gifted  poets. 

In  connection  with  the  Old  Miinchner  narrative, 
I  should  like  to  add  a  personal  reminiscence 
regarding  Paul  Heyse.  One  day  as  I  sat  over  a 
trifling  task  in  the  drawing-room  with  mamma,  and 
while  papa  had  a  visitor  in  the  room  opposite,  papa 
came  in  and  said  quite  excitedly :  "  Fanny,  young  Paul 
Heyse  is  with  me.  I  will  bring  him  in  here,  but 
don't  show  any  astonishment,  for  you  have  never  seen 
such  a  handsome  fellow  I     He  is  simply  an  Apollo." 

Mamma  laughed,  and  I,  who  was  eight  or  ten 
years  old,  I  forget  exactly  which,  looked  up  at  the 
gentleman  who  entered  with  papa. 

Yes,  indeed  he  was  ideally  beautiful !  Had  it 
been  a  few  years  later,  I  should  certainly  have  fallen 
madly,  if  vainly,  in  love  with  him.  He  spoke  of  his 
young  wife,  who  was  a  native  of  Berlin,  and  also  of 
his  stories,  and  was  at  once  invited  to  bring  the 
former,  and  read  from  the  latter,  at  our  next  evening 
party. 

He  accepted,  and  the  works  he  chose  were  The 
Blind  and  Is Arrabbiata.  I  was  allowed  to  sit  in 
the  blue  boudoir,  and  raved  for  months  afterwards 
about  Paul  Heyse. 

14 


FRIENDS  OF  CHILDHOOD 

All  this  will  describe  the  house  and  the  surround- 
ings in  which  I  grew  up.  The  children  of  these 
poets,  artists,  and  nobles  were  my  companions, 
and  with  a  few  exceptions  are  my  friends  to  this 
day.  I  had  been  surrounded  since  my  birth  by  an 
atmosphere  intellectual,  artistic,  and  beautiful ;  this 
influenced  my  future  tastes  and  the  development  of 
my  personality. 


15 


PART  II 

In  the  arms  of  the  Queen — King  Louis  II.  as  child  and 
playmate — Hans  Christian  Andersen's  visit — Forced 
betrothal — Departure  for  Berlin — At  grandmamma's — 
Yanko  von  Racowitza  enters  my  life — Return  home  to 
Italy. 


J7 


CHAPTER  III 

I  now  turn  to  my  earliest  childhood — to  certain 
episodes  which  will  perhaps  not  be  devoid  of  in- 
terest. 

The  first  of  these  was,  of  course,  told  me  in  later 
years.  Individual  memory  can  hardly  be  said  to 
exist  in  extreme  youth — certainly  not  consecutive 
memories. 

Here  is  my  first  independent  memory !  I  see  a 
fire  raging  before  me,  and  my  grandmother  bending 
over  me  in  her  night-dress  as  I  sat  on  the  window- 
ledge — I  remember  nothing  else.  Later  on  I  heard 
that  I  was  then  about  seven  months  old,  that  a  house 
in  our  neighbourhood  had  been  burnt  down,  and  that 
my  grandmother  had,  in  her  anxiety,  carried  me  from 
my  bed  to  the  window. 

My  next  personal  recollection  comes  a  few  months 
later,  when  I  wanted  a  stuffed  bird  on  the  top  of  a 
heavy  cabinet,  and  my  uncle,  who  was  young  and 
careless,  nearly  overturned  the  cabinet  in  the  gratifica- 
tion of  my  wish,  and  covered  me  with  his  coat, 
terrified  lest  the  heavy  piece  of  furniture  should  hurt 
me. 

I  mention  these  earliest  reminiscences,  because 
the  development  of  the  youthful  individuality  is  now 
considered  a  fashionable  theme  of  interest ;  it  was,  so 
to  speak,  catastrophes  of  life  and  death  which  created 
my  first  clear  impressions. 

What  now  follows  is  drawn  from  stories  that  were 
told  me. 

19 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

When  I  was  about  ten  months  old,  my  parents 
were  staying  with  the  royal  couple,  Crown  Prince 
and  Princess  Max  and  Marie  at  Hohenschwangau. 
My  mother  had  left  me  with  the  nurse  in  the  garden 
of  the  little  castle,  but  the  nurse  had  gone  off  leaving 
me  alone. 

In  an  adjoining  avenue  the  young  Crown  Princess 
was  walking  up  and  down,  when  a  child's  cries 
attracted  her  attention.  She  hurried  in  the  direction 
of  the  cries  and  found  me,  whom  she  recognised  at 
once,  lying  on  the  grass.  The  great  lady  took  me  up 
compassionately,  tried  to  comfort  me,  and  carried  me 
in  her  arms  towards  my  mother,  who  now  hastened 
in  our  direction.  Before  giving  me  up,  the  Princess 
took  my  baby  fist,  shook  it  at  mamma  and  called 
out: 

"  Little  Helene  must  not  be  deserted  like  this ; 
she  is  born  to  be  loved,  and  will  cry  herself  to  death 
if  she  is  left  alone." 

This  little  anecdote  of  my  earliest  life  was  often 
told  me  by  my  mother. 

Ah !  how  often  have  I  wept  bitterly  in  later 
years  when  I  was  deserted  by  those  who  ought  to 
have  loved  me ;  but  in  those  days  no  kind  princess 
came  to  take  me  up  and  comfort  me  in  my  loneliness, 
— and  the  "  princes  "  who  offered  themselves  for  this 
purpose  understood  the  terms  "love"  and  "to  be 
loved"  in  quite  a  different  sense  from  that  of  the 
kind  fairy  of  my  earliest  days. 

Among  the  independent  memories  of  my  earlier 
childhood's  years,  the  most  prominent  place  is  given 
to  the  beautiful  time  of  my  friendship  with  the 
Crown  Prince  Louis — later  King  Louis  II. — if  one 
may  qualify  with  such  a  serious  epithet  the  companion- 
ship of  such  youthful  beings. 

King  Max  II.  had  succeeded  his  father  Ludwig  I., 
who  abdicated  in  consequence  of  the  Lola  episode  in 
1840,  and  my  parents  belonged  to  the  intimate  circle 
of   the    youthful  monarchs    who    were    universally 

20 


PLAYMATE  OF  LOUIS  II 

beloved.  I  was  chosen  as  the  most  fitting  comrade 
for  the  Crown  Prince. 

We  met  often  and  were  initiated  together,  by  his 
kind  governess  Baroness  Mailhaus,  into  the  deep 
mysteries  of  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic. 

Notwithstanding  the  quantities  of  toys  at  the 
disposal  of  Prince  Ludwig  and  Prince  Otto,  our 
favourite  games  were  of  a  fantastic  kind.  "To  be 
fairies"  was  our  highest  ideal.  Curtains  and  portieres 
were  transformed  into  flowered  garments  and  wings, 
in  which  we  draped  ourselves  and  became  the  heroes 
and  heroine  of  many  a  fairy-like  and  wonderful 
adventure. 

Perhaps  it  was  in  those  days  that  the  seed  was 
sown  in  us  both,  which  in  him  blossomed  later  in  the 
wonderful  attraction  exercised  upon  him  by  Richard 
Wagner's  dramatic  art,  and  placed  me  on  the  boards 
of  a  famous  theatre. 

Our  friendship  lasted  for  many  years,  and  I 
remember  many  traits  of  this  king,  who  later  on  was 
so  genial,  and  was  finally  so  unhappy. 

He  was  brought  up  very  strictly,  and  taught 
especially  to  be  polite  to  his  inferiors.  Another  game 
of  ours  was  that  of  leaning  out  of  the  window  and 
spitting ;  I  have  no  doubt  this  was  instigated  by  me. 

Of  course  Baroness  Mailhaus  was  well  out  of  the 
way.  One  day  my  fathers  old  man-servant  walked 
past  and  received  our  unwelcome  gift  upon  his  head. 
We  nearly  died  with  laughter,  whilst  the  old  man, 
raising  his  eyes,  called  out  angrily,  "Who  on  earth 

is  doing  such  a  filth ,"  when   he  recognised   the 

Crown  Prince  and  broke  off  hurriedly. 

Our  joy  was  of  short  duration.  Fate  overtook  us 
in  the  shape  of  Baroness  Mailhaus,  who  laid  hold 
of  us  both  and  forced  us  to  confess  ;  this  we  did, 
trembling,  but  also  rejoicing  at  the  success  of  our  feat. 
She  looked  very  stern,  and  calling  the  old  man-servant, 
she  ordered  the  Crown  Prince  to  apologise.  Of  course 
I  was  obliged  to  do  the  same.     The  old  man  was 

21 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

much  touched  and  abashed,  but  when  he  left  the  room 
and  we  faced  each  other  with  scarlet  cheeks,  the 
Crown  Prince  whispered  to  me,  "  It  really  wasn't  nice 
of  us.  I  am  sorry  for  the  old  man,  and  will  give  him 
a  present." 

Another  brilliant  idea  of  ours  was  to  decapitate 
some  large  and  beautifully  made  tin  soldiers.  Sud- 
denly I  remembered  that  in  Andersen's  charming 
fairy  tale  of  the  tin  soldier,  he  develops  such  a  tender 
sentiment  for  the  little  paper  dancer,  that  eventually 
he  melts  in  the  oven ;  and  that  now  in  consequence  I 
looked  upon  tin  soldiers  as  living  beings.  I  told  the 
story  to  my  little  royal  friend,  who  suddenly  began 
crying  bitterly  in  the  middle  of  our  game,  because  we 
had  killed  so  many  splendid  little  soldiers.  I  wept  as 
many  scalding  tears  as  he,  until  I — being  the  elder — 
realised  that  these  tin  soldiers  could  not  possibly  be, 
like  those  in  Andersen's  fairy  tale,  alive  ;  and  I  began 
to  console  him. 

He  agreed  with  me,  and  we  were  soon  merry  over 
some  other  game. 

This  delightful  friendship  was  one  day  ended  in  a 
quarrel  which  arose  over  a  picture  book. 

Who  wanted  the  picture  book,  who  had  it,  I  no 
longer  remember.  What  I  do  remember  is,  that  we 
were  suddenly  fighting,  that  I  punched  the  Crown 
Prince,  and  he,  being  in  the  end  victorious,  pulled  out 
a  handful  of  my  red-gold  hair  and  held  it  in  his  little 
fist. 

Baroness  Mailhaus  could  not  separate  us,  as  we 
fought  like  two  wild -cats.  Suddenly  the  Queen 
stood  before  us,  and  exclaimed,  "  Children !  How 
can  you — are  you  mad  ? "  Queen  Marie  was  a  most 
beautiful  and  charming  woman,  and  I  adored  her. 
Her  presence  brought  me  at  once  to  my  senses. 

Both  sinners  burst  into  tears ;  the  great  lady 
spoke  kindly  to  us,  and  made  us  beg  each  other's 
pardon — make  friends — and  then  my  governess  came 
to  fetch  me  home. 

22 


PARTING  FROM  LOUIS  II 

When  my  father  heard  of  the  quarrel — in  spite  of 
the  forgiveness  of  the  royal  parents,  who  regarded  the 
quarrel  as  childish  nonsense — the  intimate  intercourse 
between  his  Crown  Princely  Highness  and  my  "  wild- 
ness  "  was  broken  off.  After  my  father  had  spoken 
very  seriously  to  me  on  the  subject,  he  added,  "  One 
does  not  thrash  one's  future  king.  You  are  not 
worthy  of  this  privileged  intimacy." 

Ah !  this  cost  me  many  tears,  for  I  loved  the 
royal  prince  above  everything,  and  now  I  was  only 
allowed  to  visit  him  on  his  birthday  or  name  day. 
On  those  occasions,  as  he  was  forbidden  all  sweets, 
I  took  him  the  only  thing  permitted — a  bonbonniere 
with  chocolate  drops,  which  he  divided  between 
Prince  Otto  and  myself.  We  grew  more  and  more 
estranged,  although  to  this  day  my  heart  still  holds 
deep  affection  and  admiration  for  the  unhappy  king. 
He  has  no  doubt  forgotten  me  !  Much  later,  when 
I  was  a  widow,  he  sent  me  by  his  Field-Marshal,  Von 
der  Tann,  bonbons  from  his  table  with  the  words, 
"  Greeting  to  my  once  wild  little  playmate."  This 
ended  my  childhood's  dream  in  the  royal  palace. 


23 


CHAPTER   IV 

Another  reminiscence  is  of  a  visitor  to  our  house 
who  greatly  interested  us  children.  I  mentioned 
that  our  father  had  brought  us  up  on  fairy  tales — 
Grimm's  amongst  others,  and  more  especially  Ander- 
sen's ;  and  now  Hans  Christian — as  we  preferred 
calling  Andersen — was  coming  in  person  as  a  guest 
to  our  house. 

During  his  return  journey  from  Italy  to  Copen- 
hagen he  had  been  stung  by  a  poisonous  fly,  and  was 
obliged  to  remain  for  some  time  with  us  in  Munich. 
What  an  ideal  friend  he  was  to  children  I  My 
delight  knew  no  bounds.  Quite  early  in  the  morn- 
ings, while  mamma  was  still  asleep,  I  could  torment 
him  at  my  ease,  and  he  told  story  after  story.  He 
turned  everything  into  a  fairy  tale.  It  was  even 
more  fascinating  when  he  revealed  himself  as  the 
"  Student  of  little  Ida's  flowers " ;  that  is  to  say, 
while  he  was  telling  stories,  he  cut  out  the  most 
fascinating  things  with  scissors  —  castles,  gardens, 
flowers  and  butterflies,  elves  and  gnomes — in  fact,  all 
kinds  of  wonders.  For  many  years  1  treasured  a 
butterfly  on  whose  outspread  wings  a  fairy  danced. 
This  has  vanished  since,  like  everything  that  was 
best  and  most  beautiful  in  my  life.  This  man  on 
first  sight  was  positively  repulsive  ;  so  that  I,  with  my 
precocious  sense  of  beauty,  found  difficulty  in  getting 
used  to  his  appearance.  He  was  received  and  feted 
like  a  prince  in  the  intellectual  circle  of  poets  and 
learned   men   of  Munich.     He  called   me   his  little 

24 


HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN 

fairy  on  account  of  my  flitting  hither  and  thither, 
perhaps  on  account  of  my  sunny  hair,  which  I  wore 
down  my  back.  I  was  always  with  him,  either 
holding  his  hand  or  seated  on  his  knee. 

He  also  told  his  wonderful  fairy  tales  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  moved  his  susceptible  listeners  to 
laughter  and  tears  with  fantastic  and  satirical  recitals. 
Just  those  stories,  however,  won  the  most  applause 
which  seemed  to  me  the  least  attractive ;  these  I 
thought  merely  pretty  tales.  I  can  see  again  the 
assembly  before  me  in  the  drawing-room  laughing 
heartily  over  the  "Swineherd"  and  "the  Princess 
and  the  Pea."  In  later  years  I  have  often  heard 
Wilhelm  von  Kaulbach  and  Justus  von  Liebig 
quoting  from  the  latter  story,  "  So,  now  she  can  stand 
without  and  sing,  •  Oh !  my  dear  Augustin,  all  is 
over,' "  and  the  sensitiveness  of  the  "  Real  Princess  " 
was  a  household  word  in  the  whole  circle. 

Of  course  in  such  company  and  amidst  all  these 
celebrities  I  heard  many  things  that  were  not  good 
for  such  a  young  and  impressionable  creature  as  I 
was  to  hear.  One  must  agree  with  me  when  I  say 
that  the  milieu  in  which  I  grew  up  was  the  best 
imaginable  for  the  cultivation  of  a  sense  of  the 
beautiful,  for  intellect,  artistic  fantasy,  and  social 
breeding,  but  the  least  favourable  for  all  one  under- 
stands by  the  term  morality. 


25 


CHAPTER  V 

A  vivid  temperament  was  mine  I  Let  me  say  at 
once  that  I  was  an  excitable,  unusual  creature,  wild 
and  easily  aroused — readily  thrilled  in  all  my  senses — 
"soaring  heavenward,  smitten  with  deadly  depres- 
sion," that  was  for  me  already  true,  even  at  the  age 
when  others  are  still  devoted  heart  and  soul  to  their 
dolls.  It  urged  me,  even  when  I  was  six  years  old, 
to  little  love  affairs  with  the  brothers  of  my  girl 
friends. 

This  is  what  I  saw  in  our  salon,  where  the  majority 
of  the  celebrities  already  mentioned — above  all  my 
own  father — carried  on,  either  openly  or  in  secret, 
liaisons  with  the  ladies,  or  at  least  indulged  in  obvious 
flirtations,  as  they  are  now  called — or  courtships,  as  it 
was  expressed  in  those  days. 

Amid  all  the  fine  speeches  that  were  exchanged, 
and  eagerly  absorbed  by  my  quick  ears,  many  a  fiery 
look,  many  a  covert  pressure  of  the  hand,  and  many 
a  secret  kiss  did  my  precocious  eye  detect 

Interesting  and  instructive  this  company  most 
certainly  was ;  but  conducive  to  sound  morals  and 
cleanliness  of  spirit  it  emphatically  was  not. 

This  was  the  wholly  irreligious — or  rather,  the 
a-religious  —  atmosphere  in  which  I  grew  up.  A 
little  Bible  history  was  all  I  ever  heard  of  religion. 
But  often  I  heard  mocking,  contemptuous  discussions 
of  the  fasting,  church-going,  and  confessions  of  one  of 
our  governesses,  who  was  a  Roman  Catholic. 

This  embittered  me,  for  I  was  kind  at  heart,  and 

26 


STUDY  OF  NATURAL  SCIENCES 

felt  how  tactless  and  insulting  were  such  commen- 
taries. Also  I  never  remember  that  anything  in  our 
house  was  considered  reprehensible  except  "bad 
manners,''  awkward  speech  or  intonation,  all  and 
sundry  that  jarred  upon  the  sense  of  beauty. 

In  my  father's  as  well  as  in  my  mother  s  family, 
there  was  an  absolutely  fanatical  love  of  beauty. 
Morals  were  of  secondary  consideration.  Lying  was 
one  of  the  things  that  were  strictly  forbidden.  In 
my  case  it  was  unnecessary,  as  lying  was  not  one  of 
my  faults. 

The  instruction  I  received  at  home  was  just  as 
erratic  as  everything  else.  A  German  and  a  French 
governess  looked  after  our  languages  and  elementary 
instruction.  There  was  also  added  to  these  a  tutor, 
a  little  music,  and  a  year  in  an  "  institute "  —  from 
which,  at  the  request  of  the  Principal,  I  was  with- 
drawn, since,  as  she  said,  I  learnt  nothing,  was  always 
busy  with  imaginary  things,  and  prevented  the  other 
girls  from  learning. 

This  much  for  my  education.  One  subject  really 
interested  me — that  was  natural  history  ;  and  also 
the  German  classics.  In  my  tenth  year  I  knew 
almost  by  heart  Korner,  Schiller,  Kleist,  and  much 
of  Goethe.  I  recited  them  with  much  dramatic 
instinct  when  I  gave  readings,  both  to  my  con- 
temporaries and  in  the  circle  of  my  elders.  This 
at  least  was  an  advantage  I  gained  by  keeping  my 
ears  open  at  home. 

My  love  for  natural  history,  and  especially  for 
zoology,  was  awakened  by  Dr.  Gemminger  of  the 
episode  of  the  little  bat,  already  mentioned.  I 
always  loved  animals  intensely,  and  in  this  was  warmly 
encouraged  by  my  father,  who  shared  my  taste.  Thus 
Dr.  Gemminger  was  always  allowed  to  bring  me  all 
kinds  of  animals,  and  as  he  always  explained  every- 
thing about  them  to  me  in  a  way  at  once  fascinating, 
learned,  and  clever,  I  soon  knew  more  about  forest  and 
field  life  than  of  ancient  and  modern  history. 

27 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

I  was  perhaps  eight  years  old  when  Dr.  Gemminger 
brought  me  a  dead  squirrel,  saying,  "  Now  we  know 
how  it,  the  little  fellow,  lives  and  moves,  let  us 
see  what  he  looks  like  inside !  That  is  just  as 
interesting." 

In  this  manner  I  made  my  first  dissection.  He 
showed  me  the  heart  with  its  valves,  the  lungs  with 
their  bronchial  connections,  the  stomach,  its  cause  and 
effects,  and  laid  the  foundation  for  the  study  of 
medicine  which  attracted  me  so  much  in  later  years. 

Otherwise,  no  value  was  attached  to  definite  know- 
ledge, and  by  and  through  books  I  learned  very  little. 
All  the  more  I  was  vividly  interested  in  the  profound 
mysteries  of  life,  as  1  suppose  most  children  are  from 
whom  sexual  things  are  only  half  hidden,  as  was  then 
too  often  the  case. 

From  my  tenth  year  my  friends  were  mostly 
considerably  older  than  I,  and  a  little  later  they  were 
often  found  among  newly  married  women,  and  I  was 
initiated  by  them  (and  by  one  in  particular)  into  the 
mysteries  of  sex. 

I  do  not  wish  to  defend  the  lady  who  thus 
initiated  a  young  child  in  secrets  usually  first  known 
by  those  of  much  riper  years,  but  equally  I  should 
not  like  her  to  be  unjustly  accused.  There  was  in 
my  earliest  youth,  and  there  still  survives  in  me, 
something  that  draws  women  to  me,  and  moves 
them  to  entrust  me  with  their  inmost  confidences. 
They  found  in  me,  although  I  was  then  half  a 
child,  a  ready  and  complete  understanding,  that  was 
never  shocked,  even  by  astounding  revelations ;  and 
probably  this  made  it  easier  to  confide  in  me.  I 
distinctly  remember  the  day  when  the  foundation 
was  laid  to  all  my  future  life. 

This  occurred  on  a  clear  summer  evening  in 
the  garden.  My  intimate  friend — a  Countess  K., 
about  nineteen  years  old — had  told  me  all  the 
incidents  of  her  wedding  night.  She  suddenly  began 
to  weep,  and  said  sadly,  "  Men  are  so  wicked  1     I 

28 


EQUALITY  OF  THE  SEXES 

found  out  I  was  not  his  first  love.  He  has  loved 
many  other  women  in  the  same  way." 

Hereupon  I  asked  the  amazing  question,  "Why 
don't  you  do  the  same  ?  What  he  does  you  can  do 
also ! " 

"  A  woman  dare  not,  or  the  world  will  ostracise 
her,"  said  the  Countess. 

*  I  should  like  to  find  any  one  who  would  prevent 
my  doing  what  1  wished !  And  as  for  the  outcry  in 
the  world — well,  one  must  pay  no  heed  "to  that,  so 
long  as  one  does  right,"  I  exclaimed. 

"Well,  I  should  not  consider  it  right,"  she  said 
hesitatingly,  "  unless  it  were  done  in  secret,  and  so 
that  none  should  know  of  it."  (She,  poor  soul,  was 
since  ruined  by  acting  up  to  this  view.) 

"  No  ! "  I  exclaimed  indignantly,  "  I  don't  mean 
that  at  all !  On  the  contrary,  one  should  do  it  quite 
openly,  to  show  that  a  woman  has  the  same  right  as 
a  man ;  both  are  human  beings,  and  if  it  is  in  nature, 
as  your  husband  asserts,  then  it  holds  good  for  man 
and  woman." 

It  was  on  that  clear  summer  evening  that  I  was 
first  convinced  of  the  equality  of  the  sexes.  My 
frankness  was  abnormal,  and  I  had  a  passion  for 
unmitigated  truth  which  frequently  made  my  actions 
appear  worse  than  they  were.  I  shall  often  refer 
later  to  this  characteristic  of  mine,  and  should  like  to 
impress  the  fact  on  my  readers  that  it  was,  even  at 
this  early  age,  one  of  my  most  prominent  traits. 


29 


CHAPTER  VI 

In  my  more  than  peculiar  up-bringing,  if  one  may  even 
call  it  so,  it  is  not  astonishing  that  I  was  taken  to 
private  balls  at  the  age  of  twelve  and  was  allowed  to 
play  the  "  grown-up."  From  that  time,  so  to  speak, 
I  was  made  love  to  "  officially. "  In  order  to  describe 
the  impression  I  then  made,  let  me  quote  the  words 
of  Baron  Voldendorff,  who  speaks  of  me  in  his 
Remembrances  of  an  old  Munchner. 

He  says,  after  a  few  introductory  lines :  "  I 
entered  the  blue  drawing-room,  but  my  feet  were 
arrested  on  the  threshold  by  a  wonderful  picture. 
The  sun's  rays  fell  on  the  figure  of  a  young  girl  who 
sat  in  the  window  niche — a  girl  of  such  extraordinary 
beauty  that  I  instinctively  held  my  breath  in  order 
not  to  disturb  this  creature  out  of  a  fairy  tale. 
Dainty  and  winsome  as  a  fairy,  with  sharply  cut 
profile,  in  which  the  slightly  aquiline  nose  and  the 
finely  drawn  mouth  were  conspicuous,  she  sat  or 
rather  reclined  in  the  chair,  her  little  head  drawn 
back,  as  if  by  the  weight  of  the  glorious  golden  hair  ; 
her  eyes  were  bent  dreamily  on  the  distance.  And 
what  eyes  I  Later  on  I  often  looked  into  them,  but 
do  not  yet  know  what  colour  they  are,  whether  grey, 
blue,  or  green.  They  continually  changed  colour; 
sometimes  they  wore  the  most  gentle  dove-like 
expression,  sometimes — particularly  when  the  heavy 
lids  half  hid  them  as  if  in  fatigue — they  flamed  like 
eyes  of  a  beast  of  prey.  It  was  apparently  a  child 
of  fourteen  years  of  age,  but  she  was  developed  like  a 

30 


BARON  VOLDENDORFF'S  OPINION 

girl  of  eighteen.  At  the  noise  of  the  closing  door, 
she  turned  her  head  towards  me  and  said  with  the 
greatest  aplomb,  'Mamma  is  not  here,  but  she  will 
come  directly — do  sit  down.' 

"  I  mentioned  my  name,  upon  which  she  made  a 
graceful  bow,  and  I  greeted  her  with  the  words,  'I 
suppose  you  are  the  Helene  we  have  been  expecting 
from  Berlin?'  'Quite  right,'  was  the  reply,  and 
thus  I  beheld  for  the  first  time  the  enchantress 
Helene,  who  in  later  years  was  so  passionately 
beloved,  and  so  bitterly  reviled. 

u  Those  who  have  not  personally  known  Helene 
von  Donniges  can  scarcely  understand  the  magical 
power  she  was  capable  of  wielding  over  the  hearts  of 
men.  I  often  said  to  her  jokingly,  'Like  your 
famous  namesake  you  could  surely  cause  a  Trojan 
war.  But  you  would  be  capable  of  a  higher  art  than 
hers ;  for  on  returning  to  your  Menelaus,  after  a  ten 
years'  absence  with  the  lordly  Paris,  and  many  other 
lovers,  he  would  be  sufficiently  in  love  with  you  to 
forgive  you  all,  and  joyfully  return  home  with  you 
once  more.'  I  for  one,  at  least,  have  often  tried 
hard  to  be  angry  with  her,  and  I  was  as  long  as  I 
did  not  see  her.  But  when  I  spoke  to  her  again, 
and  represented  to  her  face  to  face  her  abominable 
behaviour,  I  was  compelled  to  relent  when  she  naively 
declared  that  she  could  not  understand  wherein  she 
had  erred.  '  One  cannot  be  angry  with  her,  she  is  as 
she  is  :  ought  one  to  blame  the  panther  for  following 
his  instincts  as  beast  of  prey  ? ' " 

Such  was  Baron  Voldendorffs  opinion  of  me  I 

At  that  time — being  then  only  twelve  years  old — 
my  mother  forced  me  into  an  extraordinary  engage- 
ment. 

During  a  journey  through  Sardinia,  my  parents 
became  acquainted  with  a  widower  of  forty-two,  who, 
according  to  my  mother's  ideas,  was  extremely  hand- 
some. I  believe  he  was  really  in  love  with  my 
mother,  who  was  herself  a  beauty,  and  being  unable 

31 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

to  marry  her,  was  unscrupulous  enough  to  try  and 
wed  the  daughter.  As  to  how  far  my  father  was 
responsible  for  this  folly,  I  cannot  tell ;  but  knowing 
him  as  I  do,  I  think  he  did  not  trouble  himself  about 
such  matters.  Nobody  seemed  to  know  whether  the 
wedding  was  to  be  postponed  until  I  was  of  marriage- 
able age ;  but  in  any  case  it  amused  my  mother  to 
pose  as  a  young  and  beautiful  mother-in-law  to  a 
sympathetic  man  who  was  her  admirer.  My  betrothal 
took  place.  They  filled  my  head  with  confused 
notions  of  marriage,  married  life,  the  bearing  of 
children,  and  such  things,  at  a  time  when  I  should 
have  been  busy  with  my  lessons,  so  it  is  hardly 
surprising  that  I  did  not  say  no  to  their  mad 
project. 

I  was  delighted  to  receive  the  burning  love-letters 
of  my  fiery  Italian,  to  show  them  to  my  young 
friends,  and  to  feel  myself  envied  by  them. 

I  had  not  yet  seen  my  destined  husband.  As 
commander  of  the  fortress  of  Alessandria,  he  could 
not  easily  get  leave.  For  the  present,  all  the  pleasure 
I  got  out  of  my  engagement  consisted  in  fantastic 
pictures  which  my  mother  was  never  tired  of 
describing  to  me,  to  prove  how  charming  it  would  be 
that  I,  still  almost  a  child,  would  be  called  at  balls 
"  Frau  Generalin  —  Your  Excellency  "  ;  how  my 
elderly,  rich,  and  aristocratic  husband  would  over- 
whelm me  with  all  the  goods  of  this  world.  Only  an 
old  man  really  understood  how  to  love  a  woman  and 
to  make  her  happy.  Every  moment  of  his  life  he  is 
grateful  to  her  for  her  favour,  even  if  she  herself  has 
no  great  feeling  for  him.  In  short,  the  future  was 
sketched  in  radiant  colours,  and  in  imagination  I 
always  pictured  myself  in  velvet  and  jewels,  sur- 
rounded by  lackeys  and  every  conceivable  oriental 
luxury. 

Here  I  should  like  to  tell  of  the  terms  on  which  I 
lived  with  my  brothers  and  sisters,  and  the  other 
inmates  of  the  house. 

32 


MY  FAITHFUL  THER^SE 

I  was  adored  and  spoilt  by  them  all,  and  at  that 
time  also  by  my  parents.  Much  later,  when  I  was 
finally  separated  from  my  family,  and  was  discussing 
the  severance  with  an  old  comrade  of  my  father's,  I 
was  told,  "It  is  simply  incomprehensible  when  I 
remember  how  your  parents  adored  you !  Your 
father  would  have  fetched  the  moon  and  all  the  stars 
from  heaven  for  his  little  ■  Helena '  if  she  had  wished 
it.  You  were  simply  his  idol.  How  could  he  treat 
you  so  in  after-life  ? " 

I  was,  in  spite  of  being  a  little  headstrong  and 
full  of  mad  freaks,  at  heart  a  tractable  child,  and 
easily  led  by  affection.  Later,  when  I  was  grown 
up,  our  two  old  governesses  confessed  to  me  that 
they  had  never  loved  any  of  my  brothers  and  sisters 
as  they  had  loved  the  wild,  but  good  -  hearted 
Helene. 

I  was  far  more  developed  than  my  brothers  and 
sisters.  My  second  sister,  who  was  scarcely  a  year 
younger  than  I,  had  left  home  when  four  years  of 
age ;  my  mother  made  a  present  of  her  to  one  of 
her  childless  brothers,  where  she  was  brought  up 
surrounded  with  love  and  luxury,  and  married  when 
sixteen  years  of  age  a  rich  landed  proprietor  in 
Poland — Baron  von  K.  Poor,  charming,  pretty  Marie 
died  when  only  eighteen  years  of  age  at  the  birth  of 
her  first  child. 

With  the  other  brothers  and  sisters  (there  were 
seven  of  us)  the  difference  of  age  was  too  great  to 
allow  of  anything  but  a  kind  of  playful  intimacy. 
The  person  who  cared  for  me  most  was  my  mother's 
old  maid,  The'rese,  and  she  played  a  certain  part  in 
many  years  of  my  later  life,  as  will  be  seen  in  this 
absurd  betrothal  incident. 

The  old  Italian  bridegroom  arrived,  but  did  not 
conquer.  He  terrified  me  by  his  gigantic  bulk  and 
horrible  black  beard  ;  and  finding  no  sympathy  with 
any  member  of  my  family,  1  clung  to  the  faithful  old 
Therese.      Her  advice,    if  not   exactly   moral,   was 

33  D 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

sincere,  and  seemed  to  me  inspired.  She  had  studied 
my  mother's  character  for  a  long  time,  or  rather 
fathomed  it,  with  the  silent  Jesuitical  knowledge  of 
human  nature  which  servants,  and  indeed  all  those  in 
dependent  position,  often  possess.  She  had  no  love 
for  her  mistress,  but  understood  how  to  combine 
affection  with  interest,  and  so  made  herself  necessary 
to  my  mother.  As  regards  this  projected  marriage 
she,  together  with  all  the  other  servants,  was  entirely 
on  my  side.  During  the  Sardinian  journey  she,  a 
bigoted  and  fervent  Catholic,  had  learnt  to  know 
and  hate  the  old  Italian.  His  cynical  atheism  had 
inspired  her  with  horror.  She  comforted  me,  saying  : 
"  We  (for  it  was  understood  that  Therese  was  to 
accompany  me)  will  marry  him  because  we  must ! 
The  Frau  mamma  is  too  mad  on  the  idea  ;  no  prayers 
can  help  as  here  !  But  never  mind  !  The  dear  God 
and  the  Holy  Virgin  will  know  all  about  it,  and  soon 
send  us  some  one  else  who  will  suit  us  better ;  then 
we  will  run  away.  Or,  if  nothing  else  helps,  I  am 
sure  the  heart  of  Jesus  and  the  beloved  saints  will 
not  consider  it  a  sin  to  kill  such  a  horrible  creature, 
who  mocks  at  heaven  and  hell.  Anyhow,  we  shall 
manage  to  become  free.  Naturally,  there  will  be 
hard  times  to  begin  with." 


84 


CHAPTER  VII 

The  intervention  of  my  grandmother  ended  the 
engagement,  or  at  least  postponed  it.  She  came 
and  spoke  authoritatively  to  my  parents :  "  The 
child  must  continue  her  studies  for  the  present.  I 
will  take  her  with  me  to  Berlin.  Vedremo  piii 
tardi" 

And  so  it  was  !  The  Italian  returned  to  his 
garrison  and  I  accompanied  my  grandmother  to 
Berlin. 

There  all  kinds  of  serious  studies  were  taken  up, 
or  as  serious  as  possible  when  my  disposition  is 
considered.  I  was  very  quick  to  learn,  and  tasks 
were  mere  play  to  me.  Taubert  was  my  pianoforte 
master ;  playing  seemed  as  light  a  matter  to  me  as 
one  of  his  children's  songs.  All  this  knowledge  was, 
however,  most  superficial,  as  was  proved  by  the  fact 
that  after  a  few  years  I  entirely  gave  up  my  music. 

My  master  for  German  and  Literature,  also  my 
Russian  Professor  (for  this  language  I  studied  with 
great  readiness)  were  astonished  at  my  abnormal 
memory;  to  read  a  page  twice,  especially  in  verse, 
was  enough  to  imprint  it  upon  my  memory. 
Languages  and  declamation  became  a  passion  — 
French,  English,  and  Italian,  together  with  Russian,  I 
studied  with  my  young  friends.  My  German  master 
was  always  delighted  with  my  compositions, — most 
of  which  I  scribbled  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before 
lesson  time. 

But,  to  my  exuberant  and  imaginative  disposition, 

35 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

this  more  serious  side  of  life  was  only  of  secondary 
importance. 

I  was  longing  for  a  romance  and  imagined  many, 
for  one  can  hardly  say  that  the  flirtations  with  cousins 
and  friends  were  love  affairs.  They  were  sensual 
enough,  however,  to  be  rather  more  than  schoolgirl 
ravings. 

I  must  have  been  a  strange  girl,  for  although  I 
was  barely  fourteen  (it  was  just  before  my  Confirma- 
tion) I  made  such  an  impression  on  the  youths  I  have 
already  mentioned,  that  they  adored  me,  and  ex- 
pressed their  feelings  in  songs  and  poems.  Even 
older  and  more  serious  men  vied  with  them  in  paying 
court  to  the  "red  nixie."  The  nickname  "nixie" 
dates  from  a  little  episode  which  took  place  on  the 
Tegernsee,  and  which  I  was  very  fond  of  relating  in 
Berlin.  I  was  only  ten  years  old,  and  was  sitting  in 
our  boat-house  on  the  Tegernsee  in  the  sunshine, 
dangling  my  bare  feet  in  the  water.  Felix,  the  son 
of  the  famous  Ignace  Moscheles  (who  was  then 
twenty  years  of  age,  and  who  became  later  a  famous 
painter  in  England  and  America)  came  up  to  me 
with  his  fishing-rod,  smiled,  and  declared  later,  that 
he  had  fallen  in  love  at  once  with  the  little  golden- 
haired  thing.  The  young  man  was  anything  but 
good-looking,  with  his  sharp  though  interesting 
features.  I  was  sorry  for  his  ugliness,  and  addressed 
him  thus  :  "  Isn't  it  awful  to  be  so  ugly  ? " 

"  No,"  was  the  ready  reply,  "  Not  as  long  as  there 
are  such  charming  little  nixies  whom  one  can  look  at, 
catch,  and  paint  when  they  put  such  impertinent 
questions." 

I  was  ashamed,  and  we  made  friends.  He  soon 
became  an  intimate  in  my  parents'  house,  and  later  on 
I  sat  to  him  for  many  studies  whilst  Bodenstedt, 
Dingelstedt  and  my  father  read  aloud,  or  Moscheles 
played  the  piano.  I  particularly  enjoyed  the  chocolate 
he  gave  me  in  return  for  accompanying  him  on  his 
sketching  expeditions  through  forest  and  field. 

36 


LOVE  FOR  THE  STAGE 

The  "  Nixlein  "  exercised  her  charm  on  the  hearts 
of  older  men  in  Berlin.  There  was  one  particularly 
handsome  young  man,  who  made  such  an  impression 
on  me  that  I  let  myself  be  carried  away  by  a  semi- 
romance.  As  he  was  married  to  a  rich  though  ugly 
wife,  nothing  came  of  the  "flirtation,"  as  he  called  it. 
Later  on  I  realised  there  had  been  a  certain  danger 
for  me  in  it  all.  He  was  a  very  clever,  enthusiastic 
student  of  philosophy,  and  so  we  remained  good 
friends  and  raved  together  over  Literature  and  Art. 
Even  in  those  days  I  loved  to  read  aloud,  and  this 
remained  one  of  my  accomplishments,  as  my  en- 
thusiasm for  the  classics  was  in  its  first  and  fullest 
bloom.  I  very  soon  found  in  grandmamma's  house 
there  was  a  replica  en  petit  of  my  father's  salon. 

At  that  time  my  love  for  the  stage  developed 
itself.  When  six  years  of  age  I  had  been  taken  for 
the  first  time  to  the  ballet  in  Munich  ;  and  after  this 
everything  was  transformed  for  me  into  a  poem  of 
movement,  and  every  circumstance  of  my  life  and 
fancy  was  illustrated  by  me  in  dancing.  I  gave 
everything  a  dramatic  setting,  and  imagined  myself 
as  the  heroine  of  the  most  impossible  adventures. 

The  ancient  Greek  statues  which  I  now  learned 
to  know  in  the  museums  became  as  living  things  and 
friends  to  me. 

Ah !  How  intense  was  the  feeling  of  delight 
during  the  hours  when  I  approached  the  tragic  forms 
of  Antigone,  Maria  Stuart,  Clarchen  and  Gretchen  ! 

Few  can  have  experienced  such  joy  and  sorrow 
in  their  poetic  conceptions  as  I  lived  through  with 
mine. 

As  I  have  already  said,  my  love  for  the  stage  and 
for  artists  developed  more  strongly  than  anything 
else.  I  fancy  that  this  enthusiasm  in  me  for  all  that 
was  great  and  beautiful  in  art  was  one  of  my  chief 
attractions  to  the  young  men  of  my  acquaintance. 
They  felt  that  beneath  my  joie  de  vivre  there  lay  a 
deeper  note  of  true  admiration  for  everything  that 

37 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

was  noble  and  great.  This  perhaps  was  the  secret  of 
the  attraction  I  had  for  a  young  Rumanian  friend 
of  my  cousins — Prince  Yanko  Gehan  Racowitza. 
He  could  only  speak  broken  German,  but  the 
eloquent  glances  from  his  expressive  dark  eyes  spoke 
to  me  of  his  admiration  and  enthusiasm.  We  were 
much  together,  but  at  that  time  he  seemed  to  me 
only  a  boy.  Perhaps  the  intensity  of  expression  in 
his  eyes  contained  all  the  longing  and  passion  that 
were  crowded  into  his  brief  earthly  existence.  Later 
he  played  a  powerful  role  in  my  life,  but  at  this 
time  he  meant  little  more  to  me  than  a  welcome 
opportunity  for  practising  my  French.  His  musical 
talent  made  a  great  impression  on  me.  This  fifteen- 
year-old  youth  was  all  music ;  in  him,  with  his  gipsy 
temperament,  all  was  transmuted  into  sound.  He 
had  a  sweet  voice,  and  played  the  piano  and  violin 
with  great  taste. 

After  a  year  and  a  half  in  Berlin  my  grandmother 
returned  with  me  to  Italy,  where  my  father  was 
Minister  in  Turin  to  King  Victor  Emmanuel.  Here 
I  was  immediately  introduced  to  the  real  grand 
monde,  and  the  days  of  my  childhood  were  over. 


38 


PART  III 

The  Intoxication  of  Youth — At  home  once  more  and  in 
the  "  great  world  "  of  Turin — Move  to  Nice — Life  there 
— Lord  Bulvver  Lytton — Meyerbeer — The  Empress  of 
Russia — Grand  Duchess  Helene  and  others — First  love 
— Separation. 


39 


CHAPTER  VIII 

I  was  not  very  happy  at  first  under  my  father's  roof. 
The  dreaded  Italian  wooer  arrived  almost  at  the  same 
time  in  the  villeggiature  of  the  Vallisa  Alps,  where 
my  parents  passed  the  summer  and  autumn.  My 
aversion  to  him  became  boundless  as  he  permitted 
himself  little  intimacies.  Indeed  I  was  infuriated 
when  he  tried  to  exercise  his  prerogative  as  bridegroom 
for  the  purpose  of  caressing  me.  He  was  odious  to 
me,  and  I  showed  him  this  plainly.  My  mother,  to 
whom  he  complained  about  my  exaggerated  prudery, 
persuaded  him  it  was  merely  my  extreme  youth  and 
German  virtue,  and  would  disappear  with  marriage. 

Society  returned  soon  afterwards  to  Turin,  and 
here  life  became  more  interesting.  Cavour,  the 
genial  Minister  of  the  Re  Galantuomo,  was  an 
intimate  friend  of  my  father's,  and  he,  with  a  number 
of  eminent  men  of  that  time,  visited  us  frequently. 
I  was  regarded  by  them  as  the  affianced  bride  of  a 
high  Italian  official,  and  as  such  I  was  taken  to  the 
very  simple  court  of  Princess  Clotilde — later  Princess 
Bonaparte.  She,  as  well  as  her  father  and  brother, 
was  quite  bourgeoise — extremely  ugly,  but  clever  and 
most  amiable. 

Count  Cavour  stood  in  the  foreground  of  all  that 
was  interesting.  I  particularly  recollect  one  dinner- 
party at  our  house.  Among  the  guests,  besides  the 
Count  and  my  dreadful  fiancd,  some  members  of  the 
Corps  diplomatique  were  present.  I  sat  between  the 
Colonel  and  an  English  attache.     The  conversation 

41 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

was  held  almost  exclusively  between  Cavour,  my 
father,  the  beautiful  Princess  Ratazzi,  and  my  mother. 
From  time  to  time  Count  Stackelberg,  the  Russian 
Minister,  threw  in  a  joking  word.  It  was  said  of 
him  that  he  possessed  the  three  most  beautiful  things 
in  Turin — the  finest  dogs,  the  finest  horses,  and  the 
most  beautiful  wife,  all  of  whom  were  equally  clever 
and  treated  by  him  equally  badly. 

At  that  time — it  was  in  the  winter  of  1858 — the 
political  complications  had  arisen  between  Italy  and 
Austria  which  led  to  the  war  in  upper  Italy  in  1859. 
The  conversation  turned  almost  exclusively  upon 
these  topics.  People  said  that  Princess  Ratazzi  had 
been  a  political  spy  at  the  court  of  Napoleon, 
therefore  she  was  competent  to  speak  when  politics 
were  discussed.  I  chatted  now  in  German,  now  in 
English  with  my  young  neighbour,  pointedly  ignoring 
the  Italian,  noticing  how  he  boiled  with  rage  and 
cast  angry  glances  at  me,  but  I  took  no  notice  of 
him,  glad  to  escape  his  odious  attentions  for  a  few 
hours. 

Dinner  was  hardly  over  when  my  father  and 
Cavour  were  commanded  to  the  king ;  my  fiance 
called  me  into  a  room,  and  without  the  slightest 
preparation  attacked  me  thus : 

"You  have  behaved  like  a  cocotte  with  that 
Englishman  ;  I  will  call  him  out ;  I  will  beat  you." 

As  I  had  not  the  faintest  idea  what  he  could 
mean  by  the  word  cocotte  the  epithet  did  not  affect 
me  in  the  least,  but  I  was  most  indignant  at  his 
threat  of  beating  me,  and  was  as  wild  as  a  young 
tigress.  I  raged,  he  bellowed,  and  hurled  the 
coarsest  epithets  at  me,  all  referring  to  erotic  matters, 
most  of  which  I  failed  absolutely  to  understand. 
Hitherto  my  ears  had  been  kept  free  from  all  that 
was  coarse  and  ugly ;  now  a  flood  of  it  burst  over 
me  with  elemental  brutality.  Much  later  I  under- 
stood these  and  similar  scenes,  when  I  recalled  them 
to  memory. 

42 


MY  ITALIAN  WOOER 

Just  then  grandmamma  entered,  attracted  by  the 
shouts  of  the  excited  man,  and  promptly  put  an  end 
to  the  disgraceful  scene.  She  led  me  away  and 
insisted  on  the  Colonel's  departure  next  morning, 
without  his  having  seen  me  again. 

My  time  of  suffering,  however,  was  not  yet  at  an 
end.  My  mother  persisted  in  her  wish  for  this 
marriage,  and  my  father  left  her  free  to  act  as  she 
chose. 

Grandmamma  now  played  a  trump  card  !  We  all 
travelled  to  Alessandria,  where  the  Colonel  was 
commander-in-chief,  in  order,  as  the  clever  woman 
remarked,  "to  see  what  he  was  like  on  nearer 
acquaintance." 

His  surroundings  were  magnificent,  and  he  over- 
whelmed his  little  fiancee  with  jewels  and  costly 
gifts  ;  his  subordinate  officers  adored  him,  and  the 
poor  prayed  for  him.  Everything  was  on  a  large 
scale — if  in  somewhat  rough  style. 

On  the  whole  there  was  nothing  much  to  be  said 
against  him,  although  grandmamma  saw  well  enough 
that  neither  the  man  nor  his  entourage — wherein 
God  and  women  were  spoken  of  with  equal  levity, 
and  none  but  gross  material  interests  were  known — 
were  fitted  for  her  adored  grandchild.  Life  just  then 
seemed  to  me  utterly  grey  and  without  hope — a  sad 
condition  for  a  mere  child. 


43 


CHAPTER  IX 

Deliverance  came  in  the  following  winter  when 
my  mother  could  not  endure  the  rough  climate  of 
Turin  ;  and  thus  all  of  us,  with  the  exception  of  my 
father,  who  was  bound  by  his  duties  at  court,  moved  to 
Nice.  Ah  !  How  lovely  life  seemed  now  ! — Dream- 
ing under  orange  trees  in  my  beloved  sunshine,  far 
away  from  that  dreadful  Colonel.  We  arrived  there 
at  the  beginning  of  January,  the  best  time  for  the 
Riviera.  The  lovely  stretch  of  country  from  Cannes 
to  Bordighera  was  not  so  built  over  and  spoilt  as  it 
is  now.  The  Promenade  des  Anglais  and  the  Qiiai 
Massena  formed  the  "Corso"  then  as  now,  but 
inland  towards  Carabassel,  and  behind  and  beyond 
the  port,  all  was  pure  "nature."  We  lived  at  the 
end  of  the  Promenade  des  Anglais — next  the  Var,  a 
few  steps  from  the  sea,  in  a  large  Italian  villa  sur- 
rounded by  orange  trees;  sunlight  and  warmth 
surrounded  us  on  all  sides. 

My  father  soon  followed  us  ;  now  he  drove  to  and 
fro  between  Nice  and  Turin  to  his  duties.  He  was 
a  splendid  rider,  and  I  received  riding  lessons.  The 
third  time  I  sat  in  the  manege  a  mad  cavalcade  was 
formed  and  I  was  allowed  to  join  it,  much  to  my 
father's  pride  and  to  the  horror  of  some  German 
cavalry  officers  who  foresaw  me  with  a  broken  skull, 
or  dragged  upon  the  ground  from  the  horn  of  my 
saddle.  But  nothing  of  the  kind  happened ;  my 
friends  took  care  of  me  and  all  went  well.  After 
that  I  was  one  of  the  maddest  riders  in  that  mad 

44 


REMOVAL  TO  NICE 

and  joyful  society.     A  certain  interesting  Baroness 
U.  made  verses  on  us  all,  and  said  of  me — 

*  Es  strahlt  in  gold'ner  Aureole 
Die  Donniges,  ein  schemes  Kind 
Erst  1 4  Jahr  doch  ganz  erwachsen, 
Mutwillig  wie  'ne  Hand  voll  Wind." 

How  grown  up  I  appeared  may  be  seen  from  the 
following  little  incident  which  took  place  at  my  first 
ball  in  Nice.  At  that  time  the  cosmopolitan  banker 
A.  had  a  lovely  German  wife,  nee  Baroness  v.  Kaula. 
Being  very  young  she  was  as  yet  a  little  unaccustomed 
to  entertaining.  She  had  left  cards  at  my  parents' 
house,  and  then  sent  invitations  for  her  big  ball, 
which  opened  the  season,  to  the  Bavarian  Minister 
and  his  wife. 

Mamma  had  broken  her  arm,  and  it  occurred  to 
papa  to  take  me  instead  of  her.  I  entered  the  ball- 
room on  papas  arm,  dressed  in  white  with  white 
roses  in  my  hair,  and  in  an  enormous  crinoline  which 
was  then  de  rigueur. 

The  beautiful  hostess  approached  me  at  once  in 
order  to  welcome  the  "  ambassadress,"  and  said  after 
the  first  greeting,  "  How  young  you  look.  I  hear 
you  have  such  a  large  family  ! " 

I  thought  she  was  talking  of  my  brothers  and 
sisters,  and  answered,  "  Yes  1  five  girls  and  two 
boys." 

"  Really !  One  can  hardly  believe  that  you 
already  have  seven  children." 

Presently  the  situation  was  explained,  much  to 
my  amusement  and  to  her  perplexity.  Often  I  have 
laughed  at  the  little  contretemps  ;  and  it  was  a  great 
joke  in  common  society  that  the  fourteen  years  old 
Helene  (who  had  never  had  a  child)  was  the  mother 
of  seven. 

The  cosmopolitan  crowd  then  in  Nice  was  in 
many  ways  worthy  of  notice.  Celebrities  from  all 
parts  of  the  world  were  there,  and  I  have  never  beheld 
such   a   number   of  beautiful   women   and   girls   all 

45 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

together.  Let  me  mention  a  few  of  the  celebrities 
I  saw  at  that  time.  There  were  Bulwer  Lytton, 
Meyerbeer,  Lord  Brougham,  Dickens,  Prince 
Barclay  de  Tolly,  the  old  King  Louis  I.  of  Bavaria, 
the  transitory  King  Max  II.  From  the  Russian 
Court  there  were  the  old  Empress  of  the  Russian 
Court,  widow  of  Nicholas  1.,  the  glorious  Grand 
Duchess  Helene  (Princess  of  Wurttemberg),  and 
the  ideally  lovely  Grand  Duchess  Constantine,  who 
expected  her  witty  consort  in  Nice,  as  he  com- 
manded a  portion  of  the  Russian  Fleet  that  often 
lay  at  anchor  off  Villefranche. 

It  was  a  brilliant  and  distinguished  assembly  that 
met  in  those  days  on  the  shores  of  the  Riviera. 

In  the  foreground  of  my  memory  stands  Bulwer 
Lytton.  What  I  now  relate  took  place  at  the  end 
of  the  'fifties. 

Bulwer  was  already  past  his  first  youth  ;  his  fame 
was  at  its  zenith.  He  seemed  to  me  antediluvian, 
with  his  long  dyed  curls  and  his  old-fashioned  dress. 
He  dressed  exactly  as  in  the  fashion  of  the  'twenties, 
with  long  coats  reaching  to  the  ankles,  knee  breeches, 
and  long  coloured  waistcoats.  Also,  he  appeared 
always  with  a  young  lady  who  adored  him,  and  who 
was  followed  by  a  man-servant  carrying  a  harp.  She 
sat  at  his  feet  and  appeared  as  he  did  in  the  costume 
of  1830  with  long  flowing  curls  called  Anglaises.  To 
me,  who  hated  every  kind  of  pose,  the  famous  author 
seemed  ridiculous,  as  did  later  Oscar  Wilde  with  his 
train  of  adoring  women. 

In  society,  however,  people  ran  after  him  tremen- 
dously, and  spoilt  him  in  every  possible  way.  He 
read  aloud  from  his  own  works  and,  in  especially 
poetic  passages,  his  "  Alice "  accompanied  him  with 
arpeggios  on  the  harp.  If  at  that  time  I  had  had 
any  understanding  of  the  mystical  and  occult  side  of 
the  great  man  who  had  penetrated  so  deeply  into  the 
mysteries  of  the  unseen  world,  I  should  have 
honoured  him,  and  tried  to  learn  from  him ;  but  at 

46 


MEYERBEER 

that  age  Zanoni,  and  all  his  other  works,  were  looked 
upon  as  merely  clever  fantasies.  It  was  only  much 
later  that  I  developed  an  understanding  for  these 
subjects.  At  that  period  all  society  was  deep  in 
materialism.  In  any  case,  the  author  Bulwer  was 
more  interesting  than  the  man  Lord  Lytton. 

This  was  not  the  case  with  Meyerbeer.  The 
animated  and  witty  composer  was  very  attractive 
socially,  and  my  parents  were  as  fond  of  him  as  of 
his  operas.  I  became  very  friendly  with  his  amiable 
and  clever  daughter  Cornelia,  who  later  on  married 
the  famous  painter  Richter.  Every  day  she  took 
long  walks  with  her  father  in  the  country  surrounding 
Nice  and  sometimes  I  was  allowed  to  accompany 
them.  But  as  Meyerbeer  was  mostly  in  the  throes 
of  composition  during  these  walks,  it  was  strictly 
forbidden  to  utter  a  word.  Cornelia's  father  really 
only  took  her  with  him  to  prevent  his  falling  or 
having  an  accident,  as  he  generally  rushed  onwards 
with  wide-opened  eyes  which  beheld  nothing  but 
their  own  imaginary  world.  This  enforced  silence 
for  hours  did  not  suit  me,  and  so  I  soon  gave  up 
these  walks. 

The  first  time  Meyerbeer  visited  our  house  a  little 
episode  took  place,  which  he  often  referred  to  with 
laughter,  adding  that  he  really  believed  he  had 
entered  a  mad-house. 

My  father  gave  us  all  nicknames,  which  generally 
had  reference  to  something  he  had  been  reading,  or 
to  personal  names  which  had  struck  him.  At  this 
time  the  little  daughter  of  my  Italian  Colonel  was 
on  a  visit  to  us.  Papa,  on  account  of  her  coal-black 
eyes  and  brown  complexion,  had  christened  her  the 
"  Queen  of  Golconda,"  whilst  his  two  youngest  girls 
—  at  that  time  aged  four  and  five  —  were  called 
"  General  Bern  M  and  "  Little  Dutch  Beastie  Kneppel- 
haut."  The  three  sat  in  the  sunshine  before  the  villa 
when  Meyerbeer  called. 

M  Well,  and  what  are  your  names  ? " 

47 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOW1TZA 

The  unexpected  answers  were : 

"I  am  the  Queen  of  Golconda." 

"  I  am  General  Bern." 

"And  I,  Dutch  Beastie  Kneppelhaut." 

This  gave  rise  to  his  idea  of  having  entered  a 
mad-house. 

We  had  glorious  evenings  when  Meyerbeer  played 
us  parts  of  his  new  works,  and  Baroness  Vigier  (once 
in  full  fame  at  the  Paris  opera  as  Cruvelli)  sang  to 
his  accompaniment.  She  was  just  as  beautiful  a 
woman  as  she  was  a  great  singer,  and  after  marrying 
the  wealthy  Baron  Vigier  was  one  of  the  greatest 
entertainers  in  Nice. 

Lady  Brougham,  with  her  husband  the  famous 
statesman,  likewise  received  all  who  had  name  or 
fame  in  the  Nice  society.  She  was  very  fond  of 
giving  fancy-dress  balls,  and  of  choosing  personally 
the  costume  in  which  her  guests  were  to  appear,  in 
order  fully  to  carry  out  her  ideas. 

Once  I  had  to  appear  as  Satanella,  another  time 
as  Welleda — she  declared  she  saw  me  as  such,  and  so 
I  was  obliged  to  realise  her  dreams.  As  Lord  and 
Lady  Brougham  generally  received  on  Saturday 
evenings  —  but  according  to  English  custom  grew 
"  pious  and  closed  the  house  punctually  at  midnight 
— all  their  guests  usually  adjourned  in  a  body  to  the 
neighbouring  house  of  my  dear  friend,  a  beautiful 
American,  Mrs.  Medora  Ward,  where  dancing  and 
flirting  were  continued. 

The  luxurious  Empress  Nicholas,  who  was  already 
very  old  and  feeble,  had  in  her  suite  some  lovely 
maids  of  honour  who  were  not  precisely  distinguished 
for  their  virtue.  All  was  merry  and  sans  gene  at 
this  Court,  and  much  licence  was  permitted.  These 
beautiful  ladies  told  me  that  at  home  in  St.  Petersburg, 
when  the  Emperor  Nicholas  was  still  alive,  they  were 
often  obliged  to  let  him  warm  his  hands  on  their 
necks  (they  being  decolletees)  when  he  was  cold  on 
returning  from  a  sleighing  party.     The  Grand  Dukes, 

48 


GRAND  DUCHESS  MARIE 

who  often  visited  their  royal  mother  in  Nice,  seemed 
frequently  to  suffer  from  cold  hands  without  the 
excuse  of  sleighing  parties  ! 

Since  then  times  have  changed,  and  the  Russian 
Court  has  become  as  moral  as  other  Courts. 

In  addition  to  other  fetes,  there  was  the  splendid 
Court  of  the  Empress,  and  her  magnificent  balls 
which  were  mostly  des  folks  journees,  beginning  at 
midday  with  lunch,  followed  by  dancing  and  music 
till  4,  when  tea  and  other  refreshments  were  brought 
in.  Dancing  was  continued  until  supper -time,  and 
after  supper  only  the  mazurka  was  danced,  and  this 
generally  ended  between  12  and  1  a.m. 

The  entertainments  of  the  beautiful  Grand 
Duchess  Marie,  eldest  daughter  of  the  Emperor 
Nicholas,  were  just  as  grand,  and  the  widowed 
Princess  Leuchtenberg  was,  at  the  time  I  speak  of, 
remarried  to  the  Russian  Grand  Seigneur  Count 
Strogonoff.  Although  he  was  perhaps  thirty  years 
older  than  I,  we  struck  up  a  great  friendship.  He 
mothered  "the  child"  as  he  said,  in  the  great  wicked 
world,  and  I  remember  many  little  kindnesses  on  his 
part.  For  instance,  I  had  never  learnt  how  to  bear 
hunger  and  fatigue,  and  at  one  of  these  folks 
journees  at  the  Grand  Duchess's,  supper  was  very 
long  in  coming.  Feeling  famished,  I  sat  in  a  corner 
and  wept  from  nervous  exhaustion.  Suddenly  Count 
Gregor  (as  the  Grand  Duchess's  husband  was  called) 
sat  beside  me,  and  asked  quite  anxiously,  "  What  has 
happened  to  the  child  ? " 

Half  laughing,  half  weeping,  I  told  him  of  my 
hunger,  and  he  exclaimed  compassionately,  "Well,  we 
must  remedy  this  immediately  1  Supper  will  not  be 
ready  for  half  an  hour.  Come,  child,  let  us  see  what 
we  can  find."  We  wandered  through  many  empty 
rooms,  and  at  last  found  a  magnificent  buffet,  where, 
to  the  horror  of  the  lackeys,  we  destroyed  the 
symmetry  of  many  a  choicely  piled  dish,  for  the 
Count  helped  me  with  right  goodwill.     To  this  day 

49  E 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

I  am  grateful  to  him  for  having  saved  me  from 
"death  by  starvation,"  as  he  jokingly  said. 

The  evenings  at  the  Grand  Duchess  Helene's 
were  of  a  more  serious  kind  and  less  ostentatious. 
She  had  a  peculiar  preference  for  my  father,  and  was 
then  very  busy  with  her  scheme  for  the  abolition  of 
serfdom  in  Russia.  My  father  was  familiar  with 
such  schemes,  as  his  own  father  had  worked  with 
the  Ministry  of  Stein-Hardenberg  for  the  freedom 
of  bond  service  in  Germany.  The  help  was,  therefore, 
very  welcome  to  the  Grand  Duchess. 

While  the  two  "statesmen"  (for  the  Grand  Duchess 
was  a  sort  of  statesman)  worked  together  in  the 
cabinet,  we  listened  to  the  pianist  Rubinstein,  or  to 
other  celebrities  who  were  constantly  her  guests. 
Sometimes  I  read  aloud  Bodenstedt's  splendid  trans- 
lations of  Lermontov  and  Puschkin,  which  were  then 
compared  with  the  Russian  originals,  and  gave  rise 
to  many  an  animated  discussion.  In  the  midst  of 
this  interesting  cosmopolitan  circle,  where  a  very 
wide  margin  was  given  to  morals  and  customs,  I 
attained  my  fifteenth  year,  spoiled  and  flattered  like 
a  young  queen. 


50 


CHAPTER  X 

A  few  weeks  later  an  important  event  took  place, 
namely,  the  breaking  off  of  my  engagement. 

Our  old  friend  Prince  Barclay  de  Tolly  fetched 
us  one  day  for  a  drive  to  Villefranche  in  order  to  see 
the  men-of-war  lying  there  in  harbour.  It  was  a 
glorious  day  ;  the  Riviera  looked  its  best,  and  we 
revelled  in  light,  warmth,  and  the  perfume  of  violets. 
On  the  heights  of  Villefranche  we  met  two  Russian 
naval  officers,  blond,  young,  slender,  and  smart 
in  their  becoming  white  summer  uniforms.  They 
looked  after  the  carriage,  then  turned  and  followed 
us.  As  the  carriage  could  only  advance  slowly  on 
account  of  the  hill,  they  soon  caught  us  up.  They 
then  climbed  down  the  steep  declivity  in  order  to 
receive  us  on  our  arrival,  and  kept  a  respectful 
distance  until  they  saw  we  intended  going  over  to 
the  frigate.  Then  they  approached  us,  introduced 
themselves  to  the  Prince,  and  to  my  father,  as  Baron 
von  Krusenstern,  Lieutenant  and  Baron  von  Kotzebue 
— midshipmen  on  the  Palkan. 

Prince  Barclay  was  delighted  to  recognise  in 
them  two  countrymen  from  the  Baltic  provinces  ;  we 
also  had  friends  of  the  same  name  in  Munich,  a 
battle-painter,  Baron  von  Kotzebue,  who  married 
Baroness  Krusenstern.  After  looking  over  the  fine 
ship,  the  whole  party  was  invited  back  to  dine  with 
us,  a  carriage  was  soon  procured,  and  we  drove  home 
in  the  gayest  mood. 

I  have  never  met  such  wild,  merry  young  men 

51 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

as  these  two  cousins — Paul  von  Krusenstern,  twenty, 
Ernst  von  Kotzebue,  nineteen  years  of  age.  They 
had  the  refined  manners  of  the  "  Kuric "  nobility, 
and,  where  necessary,  the  discipline  of  their  strict 
naval  service. 

The  most  congenial  was  Paul ;  the  wittiest  was 
Ernst.  In  spite  of  his  youth,  Paul  von  Krusenstern 
had  already  had  an  interesting  life.  The  Emperor 
had  bestowed  vast  lands,  in  regions  of  eternal  ice  in 
Petropavlovsk,  upon  Admiral  von  Krusenstern  the 
explorer,  who  was  an  ancestor  of  Paul's.  At  the  age 
of  twelve  he  had  made  the  dangerous  voyage  there 
with  his  father,  who  was  also  an  admiral,  and  had  all 
sorts  of  strange  adventures  with  the  men  and  animals 
living  there.  He  told  us  about  it  in  the  most  amusing 
way,  so  that  one  hardly  knew  what  was  drawn  from 
his  vivid  imagination  or  what  from  reality.  I,  who 
resembled  him  in  vivacity  and  impressionability, 
listened  with  delight  to  his  stories,  and  was  fascinated 
by  them. 

Within  a  few  hours,  both  officers  were  head  over 
ears  in  love  with  me ;  but  I  favoured  Paul. 

Soon  they  and  their  companions  were  introduced 
to  Nice  society,  and  springtime  with  all  its  social 
gaieties  approached.  Detained  by  the  fleet,  which 
stayed  in  harbour,  the  Russian  Count,  with  Grand 
Duke  Constantine  Nicolairitah — Commander-in-Chief 
of  the  Mediterranean  squadron — remained  in  Nice 
until  the  summer. 

The  Grand  Duchesses  took  sea-baths,  as  we  all 
did,  and  amusements  began  early  in  the  morning 
with  cavalcades  and  picnics,  and  ended  at  night  with 
dancing  and  champagne. 

Speaking  later  of  this  mad  time,  I  described  it 
thus  :  "  It  was  society  composed  of  the  froth  of  all 
grades,  and  no  one  cared  what  became  of  the  froth 
when  the  bubbles  burst." 

In  our  house,  where  there  was  a  silent  longing 
for  more  serious  things,   we  tried   to   read   Victor 

52 


SOCIETY  IN  NICE 

Hugo's  dramas,  dividing  the  parts  amongst  us,  also 
a  few  other  French  authors,  but  here  again  these 
readings  were  only  a  cloak  for  flirtation. 

The  whole  of  society  seemed  to  have  been  seized 
with  an  erotic  mania.  I  can  remember  no  lady  in 
those  days,  whether  married  or  single,  who  had  not 
her  liaison ;  and  behaviour  which  at  other  times 
would  have  been  severely  judged,  was  now  winked  at. 

Let  me  quote  one  little  characteristic  episode. 

There  was  an  old  Italian  Marquise,  who  in  her 
youth  had  been  the  official  mistress  of  King  Carlo 
Alberto  of  Piedmont.  Her  erect  carriage  and  regular 
but  sharp  features  still  bore  evidence  of  her  once 
great  beauty.  She  was  known  as  one  of  the  most 
amusing  society  women,  owing  to  the  frankness  with 
which  she  discussed  every  topic,  even  the  most  risque, 
but  only,  of  course,  when  her  grandchild  was  out  of 
earshot.  For  many  years  she  had  superintended  the 
education  of  this  young  lady.  The  Comtesse  was  an 
insignificant  sort  of  girl,  possessing  neither  mental 
nor  bodily  attractions.  Her  grandmother  looked 
after  her  most  strictly. 

She  had  no  dowry,  and  in  consequence  of 
this  had  remained  unmarried  in  the  adventurous 
society  of  Nice.  She  was  now  twenty-five  years  of 
age. 

One  day  the  grandmother,  hitherto  so  rigidly 
moral,  called  the  Comtesse  into  her  boudoir  for  a 
serious  talk.  After  looking  at  her  for  a  time  half  in 
pity,  half  in  wonder,  she  said  : 

"  Look  here  !  If  you  don't  marry,  would  you  not 
like  to  behave  as  if  you  were  married  ? " 

The  girl  looked  at  the  old  Marquise  in  complete 
bewilderment.  "  What  do  you  mean,  grandmamma  ?  " 
she  said  at  length. 

"  Dear  child !  I  mean  that  it  is  time  for  you  to 
take  a  lover  !  " 

"  But,  grandmamma,  how  can  you  make  such 
horrible  jokes  ? " 

53 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

"  I  am  not  joking  at  all !  I  can  assure  you  that 
when  virtue  (this  was  even  more  forcibly  expressed) 
becomes  old,  it  pleases  neither  God  nor  the  devil. 

There  is,  for  instance,  that    charming  Count  

courting  you  !  He  has  no  money ;  neither  have  you. 
Marriage  is  out  of  the  question,  but  he  is  just  the 
right  person  for  a  little  love  affair.  If  I  were  young, 
I  know  what  I  should  do ! " 

The  foolish  virgin  did  not  quite  understand,  and 
did  not  act  according  to  the  above  advice !  The 
grandmother  told  us,  half  in  jest,  half  in  anger,  of 
the  stupidity  of  her  granddaughter.  She  added,  "  I 
cannot  do  more  to  further  her  happiness  than  tenir  la 
chandelle  au  bonheur !  But  to  show  her  how  to  do 
it — that  is  too  much  !     She  is  too  stupid." 

I  could  give  marvellous  details  of  it  all,  but  they 
would  sound  like  a  novel  of  the  eighteenth  century — 
I  therefore  remain  silent.  But  one  explanation  I 
must  offer  as  an  excuse  for  it.  It  was  a  cosmopolitan 
society  brought  together  for  a  short  time.  No  one 
had  any  feeling  of  moral  responsibility  towards  any- 
body. Each  knew  that  he  was  never  likely  to  meet 
the  other  again,  and  this  probably  loosened  all  bonds 
of  morals  and  manners. 

This  disregard  of  all  conventional  rules  was  hardly 
beneficial  to  any  of  them  ;  it  was  most  pernicious 
poison  for  all  the  young  people,  and  deadly  poison 
for  me,  its  youngest  member.  I  have  striven  for 
half  my  life  to  recover  the  rectitude  I  lost  in  those 
days  with  their  mixed  conceptions  of  right  and  wrong 
in  social  intercourse.  I  never  regained  any  respect 
for  the  world's  code  of  honour,  as  I  realised  too  well 
its  false  values,  and  with  my  straightforwardness 
despised  the  insincerity  underlying  it  all. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  whole  world  knew  almost  as 
soon  as  I  did  my  love  for  Paul  von  Krusenstern.  I 
made  absolutely  no  secret  of  it.  So  intense  was  the 
outbreak  of  my  passion  that  Baron  von  Kotzebue 
used  to  say  in  later  years,  "  I  have  witnessed  three 

54 


BREAKING  OFF  MY  ENGAGEMENT 

elemental  forces  in  my  life.  I  have  been  in  a 
typhoon ;  I  have  seen  one  of  the  greatest  volcanic 
eruptions  of  this  century  ;  and  I  was  a  spectator  of 
Helene  von  Donniges'  first  love." 

To  return  to  my  narrative.  No  day  passed  that 
did  not  see  us  together  from  morning  till  night,  with 
the  exception  of  Paul's  few  hours'  duty  on  board. 
My  parents,  too  occupied  with  their  own  affairs,  had 
no  eyes  for  the  awakening  passion  of  their  daughter, 
and  my  beloved  grandmother  was  obliged  to  leave  us 
at  the  end  of  the  winter,  as  one  of  her  sons  needed 
her.  One  important  thing  she  had  helped  me  to 
achieve,  the  breaking  of  my  engagement  with  the 
detested  Italian. 

My  dawning  passion  gave  me  a  courage  toward 
my  parents  which  I  should  not  otherwise  have 
possessed.  The  Colonel  had  come  back  once  more ! 
During  his  fortnight's  stay,  the  frigate  Palkan  had 
received  orders  to  go  to  Naples.  My  Russian  friends 
were  therefore  away,  but  the  ever-present  image  of 
my  beloved  gave  me  courage  to  show  my  aversion 
plainly  to  the  Italian.  I  treated  him  as  if  he  did  not 
exist.  A  trifle  brought  about  the  climax.  On  a 
previous  occasion  he  had  presented  me  with  a  very 
costly  little  watch,  which  Paul  von  Krusenstern  had 
dropped  and  broken  whilst  he  was  winding  it.  The 
Colonel,  already  excited  by  my  behaviour,  asked  me 
loudly,  "Who  did  it?" 

I  answered  mockingly,  "The  charming  Russian 
officer." 

This  was  not  the  first  occasion  on  which  I  had  given 
him  this  answer.  This  time  he  shouted  angrily  at  me, 
"  Who  is  this  Russian  officer,  that  I  may  break  his  neck. 
You  seem  to  have  bestowed  various  favours  on  him." 

"Yes!  that  I  have,"  I  answered  firmly,  drawing 
off  my  engagement  ring  and  throwing  it  at  the  feet 
of  the  enraged  man.  Then  I  opened  the  door,  and 
departed  with  the  words,  "  There  !  Now  it  is  all  over 
between  us,  and  I  will  never  see  you  again." 

55 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

In  the  next  room  I  met  grandmamma,  and  at 
once  told  her  everything.  She  kissed  me  and  said, 
"  Heaven  be  praised  that  you  have  at  last  got  so  far. 
Now  let  me  arrange  the  rest." 

She  then  discussed  the  affair  with  my  parents  and 
the  Colonel,  and  I  heard  nothing  more  about  it.  He 
departed  without  my  seeing  him  again. 


56 


CHAPTER  XI 

I  now  abandoned  myself  with  every  fibre  of  my 
heart  to  love.  It  was  so  intense  that  no  one  dared 
to  interfere  between  us ;  even  several  of  my  admirers 
retired  silently  when  they  saw  how  much  I  preferred 
Paul.  The  frigate  had  returned  some  time  ago  to 
Nice.  Amidst  the  orange  blossoms  and  flowers,  and 
on  the  blue  sea  waves,  in  ball-rooms,  and  on  horse- 
back, we  were  oblivious  of  all  else,  and  were  like 
young  gods  in  the  early  days  of  mankind. 

Society  was  amused,  and  people  laughed  at  us, 
for  we  took  no  pains  whatever  to  hide  our  feelings. 
Things  went  on  like  this  for  some  time.  We  were 
content  with  what  life  offered  us  in  its  many  oppor- 
tunities of  meeting  and  embracing.  But  with  the 
long  days  of  summer  the  longing  to  possess  overcame 
us  in  our  youthfulness. 

Two  summer  evenings  rise  before  my  mind's  eye — 
splendid,  hot,  and  full  of  perfume.  At  a  picnic  we 
two  rode  away  from  the  rest  of  the  party,  and  let  our 
horses  wander  where  they  would.  Intoxicated  with 
our  love,  we  arranged  a  rendezvous  in  the  garden 
by  moonlight  in  an  arbour  of  roses,  for  that  night. 

When  the  time  came,  I  flew,  rather  than  ran,  to 
the  spot,  where,  hidden  in  the  entwining  roses,  my 
young  lover  awaited  me. 

But  strange !  when  I  was  quite  near,  my  courage 
failed  me ;  shame  crept  over  me  at  what  I  was  doing, 
and  my  feet,  which  had  borne  me  so  lightly  to  the 
spot,  now  seemed   unable  to   carry  me   across   the 

57 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

threshold  of  the  arbour.  Paul — my  wild  Paul — re- 
clined within.  Whilst  waiting  for  me  he  had  strewn 
the  arbour  with  quantities  of  roses,  and  now  began 
showering  them  on  me.  I  stood  on  the  threshold  in 
a  rain  of  flowers.  Then  he  rose  up.  I  remained  at 
the  entrance  and  whispered : 

"What  am  I  to  do?" 

Then  he  laughed,  and  throwing  the  last  of  the 
roses  at  me  he  called  out,  "  Go !  go  !  my  sweetest 
one,  and  if  ever  any  one  else  begs  you  to  come  to  a 
rendezvous,  then  I  shall  say  to  him Go  I " 

I  heard  no  more.  I  turned  round,  and  rushed, 
flew,  exulting  into  the  house,  not  knowing  why  I  was 
so  glad,  nor  yet  why  immediately  afterwards  I  was 
weeping  bitterly. 

Another  summer  night  ended  differently.  We 
had  neither  of  us  discussed  or  arranged  anything. 
I  had  crept  alone  into  the  bower  of  roses.  Beneath 
the  heavily  scented  sprays  I  lay,  and  dreamed,  and 
thought,  and  wished,  and  longed.  There  he  stood, 
then  knelt  beside  me,  and  his  voice,  which  always 
intoxicated  me,  whispered,  "I  knew  you  would  be 
here!" 

We  hardly  said  anything  else.  Love,  youth,  the 
glorious  summer  night,  these  did  as  they  have  done 
since  time  began,  and  youthful  love  existed.  Oh ! 
blessed  be  that  night  of  flowers. 

Sei  sie  gesegnet  jene  Bliitennacht  I 

A  short  time  of  mad  intoxication  followed,  then  the 
Russian  fleet  left  the  Mediterranean. 

Weariness  and  desolation  entered  my  paradise, 
and  my  young,  longing  heart. 

Paul's  father  arrived  soon  afterwards  to  ask  for  my 
hand  in  marriage  for  his  son.  How  my  pulses  beat 
when  I  knew  the  great  question  was  being  discussed  ! 
I  was  not  even  asked  what  my  wishes  were.  The 
Admirals  communication  as  to  the  fortune  and 
prospects  of  his  son  did  not  satisfy  my  parents,  and 

58 


REFUSAL  OF  MARRIAGE 

under  the  pretext  of  not  wishing  their  child  to  settle 
in  such  desolate  ice  regions  (where  the  Krusen sterns' 
possessions  lay)  they  refused.  Thus  ended  our 
youthful  dream. 

Many  years  later,  when  I  was  free  and  stood  alone 
in  life,  Baron  Ernst  von  Kotzebue  asked  me  again,  on 
Paul's  behalf,  to  become  his  wife.  Herr  von  Kotzebue 
was  attached  to  the  Russian  Embassy  in  Berlin,  and 
I  was  living  there  studying  for  the  stage.  From 
conversation  with  him  and  the  friends  of  my  youth, 
I  gathered  that  Paul's  high  spirits  had  led  him  into 
many  foolish  scrapes.  He  was  also  a  great  gambler, 
and  on  the  brink  of  ruin.  To  his  family  I  seemed  to 
be  his  only  hope  of  salvation.  The  old  first  love 
could  perhaps  conquer  and  save  him.  But,  apart  from 
the  fact  that  the  passion  for  gambling  always  filled 
me  with  the  greatest  horror,  my  interests  then  were 
all  centred  in  the  stage.  Marriage  with  the  lover  of 
my  first  youth  attracted  me  no  more.  I  therefore 
declined  the  Baron's  offer  with  thanks.  I  never  saw 
Paul  again.  A  few  years  later  he  lost  his  life  in  a 
bold  expedition  to  the  North  Pole.  The  ship  was 
wrecked  that  he  himself  commanded.  He  was  for 
three  weeks  stranded  on  an  iceberg  with  one  member 
of  his  crew.  They  had  saved  provisions  and  instru- 
ments, but  although  he  reached  Petersburg  alive,  he 
died  of  the  consequences  of  this  terrible  journey. 

At  that  time  much  was  talked  and  written  about 
the  young  hero  and  his  privations  on  the  iceberg, 
which  had  exhausted  even  his  great  power  of  re- 
sistance. 

I  cherish  an  affectionate  remembrance  of  him  to 
this  day,  and  have  often  defended  him  against  attacks 
of  friends  who  called  him  a  base  seducer.  No !  a 
thousand  times  no  1  That  he  never  was  !  There  was 
never  any  question  of  "seduction"  in  our  case.  It 
was  the  attraction  of  two  young  creatures  towards 
each  other,  perhaps  without  even  the  real  great  love. 
This  came  in  my  case  later  ;  the  longing  for  love,  for 

59 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

all  that  is  loving  and  beautiful.  It  was  the  working 
of  the  wonderful  south  with  its  seduction,  its  whirl- 
wind, and  last,  not  least,  the  example  of  society.  We 
were  both  equally  guilty,  if  there  can  be  any  question 
of  guilt — but  both  were  equally  happy. 

Never  have  I  for  one  moment  repented  of  my 
naive  abandonment  amid  the  scent  of  blossoms  and  the 
song  of  nightingales,  in  the  gentle  murmur  of  the 
moonlit  silver  sea,  in  the  clear,  sweet  summer  night. 
Anything  more  burning,  more  beautiful,  the  old  moon 
or  this  old  world  has  surely  never  seen. 

Therefore,  I  say  again,  "  Blessed  be  that  summer 
night!" 


60 


CHAPTER  XII 

Until  my  eighteenth  year  I  lived  in  Nice,  but 
these  years  can  offer  no  special  interest  to  the  general 
reader.  Perhaps  one  ball  may  be  considered  an 
exception,  at  which  I  was  allowed  to  dance  in  the 
same  quadrille  as  the  Empress  Eugenie,  who  was 
then  at  the  zenith  of  her  glory. 

The  Franco-Italian  war  against  Austria  was  now 
at  an  end,  and  the  French  troops  returned  home 
amidst  the  rejoicings  of  the  population  of  Nice.  The 
royal  pair,  Napoleon  III.  and  the  beautiful  Empress, 
had  come  to  the  boundary  of  their  kingdom  to  greet 
the  victorious  troops. 

The  ball  was  given  to  the  royal  pair  by  the  town. 

My  father,  as  the  only  ambassador  present,  was 
much  honoured.  Mamma  was  once  again  confined 
to  her  bed,  so  I  took  her  place  at  the  ball.  I  was  so 
lost  in  admiration  of  this  wonderful  Empress  Euge'nie, 
that  in  dancing  in  the  royal  quadrille  with  the  Russian 
Consul,  I  forgot  to  make  the  usual  steps.  Every- 
thing was  symmetrically  perfect  in  her  ;  the  slender, 
graceful  figure,  with  the  beautifully  modelled  shoulders, 
which  were  enhanced  by  the  white  dress  she  wore, 
profusely  embroidered  with  pearls  and  silver.  Her 
exquisite  shape  attracted  me  perhaps  even  more 
than  did  the  classically  beautiful  head,  with  the 
noble  regular  features  and  the  auburn  hair,  upon 
which  sparkled  a  royal  diadem.  Her  charming 
smile  bewitched  me  as  much  as  did  the  few  friendly 
words  she  addressed  to  me  in  her  melodious  voice. 

61 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

Napoleon,  who  danced  in  another  quadrille,  in- 
spired me  with  a  slight  feeling  of  awe,  though  he 
interested  me  with  his  blase'  expression  and  sharply 
cut  profile.  I  replied  shyly  and  softly  to  his  gracious 
words,  and  all  my  life  I  raved  about  the  beautiful 
Empress. 

Seven  years  later,  when  I  was  in  Paris,  I  could 
not  understand  that  the  love  of  the  people  and  of 
the  Court  seemed  bestowed  more  upon  the  Emperor 
than  on  the  beautiful  Empress.  They  called  her 
haughty  and  bigoted,  cold-hearted  and  narrow-minded. 
This  was  the  opinion  of  her  entourage  ;  they  admired 
her  appearance,  her  love  of  show,  her  taste  (although 
it  was  she  who  introduced  the  crinoline  to  hide  her 
interesting  condition),  but  she  seemed  to  inspire  very 
few  people  with  love.  The  Emperor,  however,  was 
loved  both  as  man  and  as  ruler.  I  was  told  that 
Napoleon  was  very  much  more  hearty  in  his  dealings 
with  the  Royal  Prince  than  the  Empress  was,  for 
she  preferred  discussing  new  modes  with  her  dress- 
makers to  occupying  herself  with  her  little  son's 
education.  I  did  not  take  much  notice  of  these 
opinions,  because  although  for  a  time  there  was  a 
project  for  me  to  remain  at  this  Court,  nothing  came 
of  it ;  but  of  all  this  I  shall  speak  later. 

The  years  thus  passed  in  the  great  world  of  Nice 
did  not  help  to  improve  my  character.  The  behaviour 
of  my  parents,  who  accepted  or  refused  one  suitor 
after  another  (as  years  went  on  many  such  presented 
themselves  for  me),  taught  me  that  fidelity  was  not 
among  the  virtues  demanded  of  me.  I  therefore 
acted  as  all  those  around  me  did,  and  flirted  with 
one  after  another. 

If,  as  was  inevitable  in  this  great  cosmopolitan 
caravanserai,  parting  soon  followed — well,  one  consoled 
oneself  more  or  less  quickly  ;  no  one  cared  or  asked 
anything  about  one's  feelings  in  the  matter ;  one 
laughed,  and  pitied  nothing  and  no  one  1 

Instead    of   fidelity,    two    other    feelings    were 

62 


FANATICAL  LOVE  OF  TRUTH 

awakened  in  me,  and  they  became  deep  signs  of 
character  which  accompanied  me  all  through  life  : 
the  conviction  of  the  equal  rights  of  man  and  woman 
in  love  affairs  (especially  with  childless  women,  such 
as  I  was,  and  remained) ;  the  knowledge  of  the 
evanescence  of  love,  and  the  absolute  love  of  truth. 
Every  man  who  approached  me  tried  to  prove  to 
me  that  such  an  exceptional  being  as  I  was  not  born 
for  fidelity.  Of  course  they  applied  the  same  argu- 
ments to  other  women,  as  I  knew,  with  the  result 
that  I  became  almost  fanatical  in  my  love  of  frank- 
ness. "  Never  will  I  lie  to,  or  cheat  any  one  about 
myself,"  became  in  me  a  sort  of  clarion  cry,  the 
motto  of  my  life's  action.  I  lived  up  to  it,  if  I 
often  suffered  deeply,  even  risking  the  happiness  of 
my  life  for  it. 

Only  a  short  span  of  careless  youth  was  granted 
me  by  Fate,  which  stepped  towards  me  with  ruthless 
tread,  showing  no  mercy  for  my  acquired  and-  natural 
weaknesses,  and  punishing  me  cruelly  through  myself. 

The  mad  joys  of  youth  ended  for  ever. 


63 


PART  IV 

In  Berlin  once  more — Yanko  my  spiritual  possession — With 
the  master  W.  von  Kaulbach — President  Bonseri,  Baron 
Korff,  and  other  friends  of  Lassalle's — Lassalle  enters 
my  life — Mutual  impressions — Yanko  as  confidant — At 
the  jurists'  ball,  and  later — Long  separation — Grand- 
mother's death — Geneva — Meeting  on  the  Rigi — En- 
gagement— At  home — At  the  hotel  with  Lassalle — At 
a  friend's — Terrible  scenes — Dreadful  times  before  the 
duel — Lassalle's  death — What  happened  afterwards — 
Why  I  nevertheless  married  Yanko — Wallachia — Mar- 
riage— Sad  short  union — Yanko's  death  and  burial. 


65 


For  all  who  are  interested  in  this  story,  this  portion 
of  my  reminiscences  is  the  most  important 

Many  years  ago  in  my  little  book,  My  Connection 
with  Lassalle  (Schottlander,  1879),  I  published  many 
details  which  I  must  now  repeat,  in  order  to  reproduce 
my  conversation  with  Lassalle  and  his  most  extra- 
ordinary views.  His  words  have  sunk  into  my  heart 
and  mind  in  his  own  fascinating  voice  and  manner 
of  delivery,  and  I  seem  only  able  to  reproduce  them 
in  full. 

Beside  Lassalle's  words,  and  the  events  as  I  saw 
them,  and  as  I  now  endeavour  faithfully  to  reproduce 
them,  there  is  my  present  version  of  all  which  led  to 
the  fearful  catastrophe  involving  the  death  of  one  of 
the  most  wonderful  men  of  all  time.  This  ranks  as 
far  above  my  first  effort  as  the  speech  of  ripe  man- 
hood does  above  the  halting  expression  of  a  child. 

The  story  I  wrote  then  of  the  events  in  our 
household  was  written  chiefly  in  order  to  let  the 
world  know  what  humiliations  and  cruelties  I  suffered, 
and  what  pressure  was  put  upon  me  to  make  me  act 
as  I  did ;  to  show  the  world  my  real  self,  and  to  tell 
the  truth  which  only  I  could  know. 

To-day  matters  are  different.  All  broad-minded 
people  who  have  looked  with  unbiased  views  on  the 
tragedy  of  those  days,  have  judged  the  unhappy 
heroine  more  justly.  Other  work  than  mine,  namely, 
the  publication  of  Lassalle's  letters  in  the  work  written 
by  a  high  German  official,  The  Sorrows  of  Lassalle  ; 
George  Brandes's  Lassalle's  Biography,  and  other 
books,  have  done  much  to  dispel  the  false  impressions 
arising  from  garbled  misstatements. 

67 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

I  myself,  standing  now  on  the  brink  of  old  age, 
look  at  everything  more  calmly  and  clearly,  and  am 
capable  of  judging  more  impartially  by  virtue  of  the 
knowledge  I  have  since  acquired,  in  the  shape  of 
intimate  letters,  etc.  I  am  thus  able  to  give  a  more 
complete  picture  of  the  great  man  than  was  possible 
at  that  time.  This  new  version  is  almost  a  necessity 
of  to-day. 

Whenever  I  have  found  it  needful  in  order  to 
preserve  the  sequence  of  events  to  quote  certain 
details  already  published  in  my  previous  work,  I  have 
notified  this  fact  in  a  footnote. 


68 


CHAPTER  XIII 

I  am  unable  to  remember  the  exact  reasons  which 
led  me  to  my  sojourn  in  Berlin  with  grandmamma 
in  1862.  She  felt  lonely,  and  I  felt  grateful  to  be 
her  chosen  comforter.  My  mother  and  I  never 
understood  each  other,  but  my  whole  heart  went  out 
to  my  grandmother.  It  was  possible  that  during  her 
long  stay  with  us  in  Munich  she  thought  it  advisable 
to  remove  me  from  the  frivolous  life  which  she  con- 
sidered would  be  baneful  to  my  character,  and  wished 
to  do  this  before  it  was  too  late. 

On  our  arrival  in  Berlin  she  insisted  on  a  regular 
course  of  study.  I  attended  Professor  Werner's 
lectures  on  Goethe  and  Shakespeare  at  the  University, 
and  was  taken  to  certain  operas  and  plays,  and  was 
also  made  to  study  classical  music.  In  short,  the  girl 
who  had  been  allowed  to  run  wild  on  the  shores  of 
the  blue  Mediterranean  was  now  taken  well  in  hand, 
and  new  interests  soon  made  the  memory  of  those 
wild  days  appear  like  a  mad  carnival  dream. 

It  was  autumn  when  we  returned  to  the  north, 
and  I,  who  had  always  been  accustomed  to  the 
southern  atmosphere,  suffered  from  the  climate.  The 
coolness  of  social  intercourse,  too,  made  me  feel  as  if 
I  had  been  transported  to  another  planet:  "I  am 
forced  to  breathe  Polar  atmosphere;  you  are  all 
icebergs  in  Berlin,"  I  often  exclaimed ;  and  "  Oh 
for  a  Southerner  with  hot  blood  in  his  veins  ! " 

And  he  came!  One  day  when  the  University 
holidays  were  over,  he  stood  before  me.     My  dark 

69 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

fairy-prince,  my  Moorish  page  as  I  often  called  him, 
Yanko  von  Racowitza,  who  became  from  that  moment 
—  until  his  early  death  —  my  faithful  and  beloved 
friend. 

For  it  was  loving  friendship  with  which  he  inspired 
me,  not  love  itself.  He  was  too  boyish,  and  mentally 
too  undeveloped,  for  the  latter;  but  his  great  love 
for  me,  and  thorough  understanding  of  my  peculiar 
temperament,  his  charming  personality  and  amiability, 
combined  with  his  musical  talent  and  enthusiasm  for 
everything  noble  and  beautiful,  all  contributed  to 
make  the  tie  between  us  one  of  the  closest. 

He  played  a  leading  part  in  our  circle  of  friends, 
who  loved  him  for  his  amiability,  good  looks,  and 
modesty.  He  was  always  ready  to  please,  too,  with 
his  delightful  musical  talent. 

Our  conversation  was  generally  in  French,  and  we 
read  together  most  of  the  new  French  authors  of  the 
time.  No  restriction  had  been  placed  by  my  grand- 
mother, or  by  my  parents,  on  the  books  I  read.  In 
fact,  during  the  phase  of  our  development  we  shared 
every  impression,  artistic  and  otherwise,  and  became 
the  closest  companions. 

At  this  time  Wilhelm  von  Kaulbach,  the  celebrated 
painter,  was  finishing  his  frescoes  in  the  Berlin 
Museum.  His  artistic  eye  delighted  in  the  contrast 
between  my  red-gold  beauty  and  that  of  my  dusky 
Moor. 

One  morning  in  the  Museum  he  wished  me  to 
mount  his  scaffolding  and  sit  for  the  colour  of  my 
red-gold  hair,  which  he  required  for  one  of  his  figures, 
and  I  told  Yanko  to  come  and  amuse  me  during  the 
sitting.  This  turned  out  to  be  needless,  as  Kaulbach 
himself  was  in  the  most  imaginative  mood. 

As  he  stood  there  painting  he  told  us  fairy  tales 
of  ancient  Greece.  On  the  wings  of  his  fantastic 
imagination  he  carried  himself  and  me  back  to  former 
incarnations  when,  he  said,  I  was  the  friend  of  Pericles, 
and  he  conversed  with  the  gods. 

70 


YANKO  VON  BACOWITZA 

The  charm  of  that  hour  is  still  in  my  memory,  and 
when  Yanko  and  I  stepped  into  the  daylight  of  the 
Lustgarten,  we  felt  as  if  we  had  emerged  from  a 
fairy  castle,  the  portals  of  which  had  been  opened  to 
us  by  the  hand  of  genius. 

At  that  time  Emil  Paleske,  the  writer  of  Schiller  s 
life,  and  the  greatest  dramatic  reciter  of  his  time, 
came  to  Berlin.  I  listened  in  breathless  delight  to 
his  magnificent  rendering  of  the  dramas  of  all  our 
greatest  poets,  which  he  recited  by  heart. 

He  soon  became  a  great  friend  of  grandmamma 
and  myself,  and  we  passed  delightful  evenings  reading 
many  well-known  works.  We  read  Faust,  JEgmont, 
and  Iphigenie ;  and  one  of  my  greatest  regrets  is  that 
I  was  not  allowed  at  that  time  to  follow  the  bent  of 
my  own  inspiration,  and  become  an  actress.  I 
might  have  developed  into  a  great  artist,  and  the 
whole  of  my  life  been  more  harmonious.  As  it  was 
my  best  powers  were  maimed  by  the  tragedies  of  my 
life,  and  it  was  only  with  broken  wings  that  in  after- 
years  I  took  the  longed-for  flight.     Later  !   Too  late  I 

As  time  went  on  the  studies  which  Yanko  and  I 
pursued  together,  and  our  mutual  enthusiasm  for  art, 
made  us  even  closer  friends  than  before ;  more  and 
more  I  recognised  his  nobility  of  soul. 

At  last  one  day  he  knelt  before  me,  and  with 
broken  voice  implored  me  to  marry  him  when  his 
studies  were  completed.  I  replied,  "  If  in  the  mean- 
time I  can  find  no  one  whom  I  can  love  far,  far  better 
than  you,  and  if  I  do  not  go  on  the  stage,  which  I 
would  do  now  were  it  not  for  silly  family  reasons — 
then  I  will  marry  you."  This  was  surely  no  engage- 
ment, not  even  a  promise  of  any  kind ;  but  he  felt 
himself  consecrated  to  me  from  that  moment,  and 
gave  me  his  entire  life  and  love. 

In  those  days  I  was  not  worthy  of  this  love ;  I 
accepted  it  like  that  of  so  many  others,  with  a  light 
heart  and  as  a  matter  of  course,  just  as  a  blossoming 
tree  in  springtime  accepts  floods  of  sunshine. 

71 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

Love,  with  all  the  intoxication  of  the  senses,  was 
as  necessary  to  me  and  my  nature  as  the  sun  is  to 
the  flower ;  but  in  those  days  I  had  not  learnt  to 
treasure  it  as  a  gift  of  God,  nor  did  I  appreciate 
Oscar  Wilde's  words  when  he  said :  "  Love  is  a 
sacrament  which  we  should  receive  kneeling,  and 
upon  the  lips  and  hearts  of  those  who  partake  of  it 
should  be  written  Domine  non  sum  dignus"  I  was 
still  very  far  from  feeling  this. 

Then  came  the  winter — Ferdinand  Lassalle  entered 
my  life,  and  all  else  faded  into  shadow. 

At  that  time  one  of  the  most  delightful  and 
hospitable  houses  in  Berlin  was  that  of  old  President 
Bonseri  and  his  amiable,  white-haired,  dainty  wife, 
whom  I  nicknamed  "Old  Butterfly."  This  was 
almost  the  only  house  where  one  met  indiscriminately 
artists,  men  of  letters,  officers,  and  the  high  official 
world.  The  "  Old  Butterfly "  had  taken  me  to  her 
heart,  and  grandmamma  permitted  me  to  go  there 
unchaperoned. 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  a  ball.  I  had  danced  a 
great  deal,  felt  a  little  bored,  and  looked  round  in 
the  noisy  crowd  for  some  one  with  whom  I  could 
have  an  interesting  little  talk. 

I  saw  A  ugusta  Formes,  a  well-known  Shakespearian 
actress,  conversing  with  an  officer  of  dragoons.  As 
I  went  towards  her  she  exclaimed  joyfully,  "Ah! 
Now  I  can  introduce  my  clever  friend  Baron  Korff 
to  you.  He  did  not  take  his  eyes  off  you  while  you 
were  dancing,  you  golden  nixie  child!  Fraulein 
von  Donniges  is  a  remarkable  phenomenon,  not  a 
mere  society  damsel." 

I  happened  to  know  he  was  not  of  the  ordinary 
officer  type,  as  I  had  heard  about  him  already  from 
his  sister-in-law,  Cornelia  Meyerbeer,  in  Nice.  She 
had  told  me  all  about  his  wild  days  in  Berlin  and 
how,  when  stationed  here,  he  had  spent  his  money 
recklessly,  had  been  the  hero  of  many  adventures, 
yet     at    the     same     time     a    favourite     friend    of 

72 


FERDINAND  LASSALLE 

Alexander  von  Humboldt  and  of  other  eminent 
people. 

I  was  in  my  element  in  the  animated  conversation 
that  followed,  and  had  made  them  laugh  at  one  of 
my  unconventional  speeches,  when  Frau  Formes  was 
called  away  and  Korff  said  suddenly,  "  Ah !  You 
know  Lassalle ! " 

I  had  never  even  heard  his  name,  so  replied 
indifferently,  "  No  !  Who  is  it  ? " 

To  this  question  Korff  made  no  reply,  and  we  con- 
tinued conversing  about  all  sorts  of  things.  Suddenly 
he  exclaimed,  "  You  must  know  him,  for  only  a 
woman  who  knows  Lassalle  could  talk  as  you  do." 

I  answered  almost  irritably,  "  No !    Who  is  this 

. 

The  Baron  became  suddenly  serious  and  said, 
"  Oh !  let  all  the  smaller  souls  around  us  deny  him  ; 
but  let  us  two  confess  to  each  other  that  we  both 
know  and  admire  him." 

My  curiosity  was  now  thoroughly  aroused.  "I 
give  you  my  word  of  honour  I  do  not  know  him — 
have  never  even  heard  his  name.     Who  is  it  ? " 

Korff  replied,  "Well  then,  I  can  only  regret 
every  hour  that  passes  without  your  knowing  each 
other ;  you  are  the  only  woman  I  can  imagine  as  a 
fitting  mate  for  him." 

Is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  my  curiosity  was 
now  aroused  to  the  extreme,  and  that  I  exclaimed, 
"  Good  heavens  !     Who  is  the  man  ? " 

"  A  great  revolutionist,  and  the  most  interesting 
man  I  know,  whose  extraordinary  mind  makes  him 
dangerous  alike  to  men  and  women." 

"  Ah,  to  women  also  !  " 

He  smiled  :  "  Are  you  jealous  already  ?  " 

"  No  !     But  tell  me  more,"  I  said. 

"Very  well,  but  not  here.  Let  us  ask  Frau 
Formes  to  take  us  now  to  her  flat  (she  lived  on  the 
same  floor).  She  knows  him  well,  and  we  can  tell  you 
all  about  him  there." 

73 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

I  gladly  consented  and  we  left  the  ball-room  for  an 
hour.  Ensconced  in  a  cosy  corner  of  Frau  Formes's 
boudoir,  I  listened  intently  to  all  they  both  told  me 
of  him. 

The  social  side  of  Lassalle's  life,  and  his  relations 
with  women,  seemed  to  interest  them  more  than  the 
political ;  therefore  I  heard  much  of  the  former  and 
nothing  of  the  latter. 

First  and  foremost  they  mentioned  Countess 
Hatzfeld  as  a  terrible  person  who  smoked  huge  cigars, 
wore  thick  false  eyebrows  and  a  red  wig,  and  who — 
from  being  his  former  mistress — had  now  become  an 
absolute  tyrant 

They  then  spoke  of  a  more  recent  love-affair  ;  the 
name  of  Sophie  was  mentioned,  and  many  others.  I 
was  interested,  but  not  more  so  than  I  should  have 
been  in  the  adventures  of  any  other  unknown  person. 
So  at  last  I  stood  up  saying,  "  It  is  getting  late,  let 
us  return  to  the  ball-room." 

No  more  was  said  on  the  subject  and  this  little 
episode  made  no  deep  impression  on  me,  as  my  head 
was  full  of  a  thousand  other  things ;  but  fate  was 
working. 

A  few  weeks  later  I  was  taken  to  dinner,  at  a 
large  party,  by  Dr.  Carl  Oldenburg,  one  of  the 
wittiest  men  in  Berlin.  From  light  and  amusing 
topics  we  fell  upon  deeper  subjects,  when  he  suddenly 
exclaimed,  "  You  might  be  a  pupil  of  '  Heraclitus  the 
Dark/  or,  in  vulgar  parlance,  of  Ferdinand  Lassalle, — 
or  better  still,  you  might  be  his  wife,  the  only  woman 
I  can  imagine  as  such." 

Here  again — almost  the  same  words  as  Baron 
Korff  had  spoken. 

"Do  you  also  know  him  ? "  I  remarked  half  shyly. 

"  Know  him  ?  Say,  rather,  love  and  admire  him. 
I  am  proud  of  being  his  best  friend." 

He  then  told  me  all  about  his  friend's  great  work, 
Heraclitus  the  Dark,  and  spoke  of  him  as  one  of 
Germany's  most  learned  men,  dangerous  alike  to  men 

74 


FERDINAND  LASSALLE 

and  women,  and  then  he  whispered  mysteriously, 
"Even  our  iron  Bismarck  is  said  to  be  under  his 
ban." 

"  But  I  thought  he  was  a  revolutionist,"  I  said, 
astonished. 

At  this  moment  the  dinner  ended,  and  with  it  our 
conversation. 

My  thoughts  often  reverted  to  that  evening. 
Next  day  I  asked  grandmamma  about  Lassalle.  I 
had  come  to  the  right  person ! 

"  He  is  a  terrible  man,"  she  said.  "  He  wants  all 
the  rich  to  divide  their  goods  with  the  poor." 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  so  did  Jesus  Christ ! " 

"  He  was  also  mixed  up  in  a  horrible  case  of  theft ; 
I  do  not  know  the  exact  facts  of  the  case,  but  anyhow 
he  is  an  awful  creature  whom  no  one  in  good  society 
receives." 

I  was  silent,  but  in  no  way  convinced.  Next,  I 
questioned  Yanko,  who  evidently  knew  little  more. 
He  merely  gave  me  a  few  more  details  regarding  the 
"  Cassette  "  story,  then  added,  "  But  how  can  a  man 
interest  you  whom  you  are  sure  never  to  meet  in  our 
circle?" 


75 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Amongst  our  acquaintances  was  a  charming  couple 
called  Hirsemenzel.  The  husband  was  a  lawyer,  and 
my  uncle's  friend,  and  they  gave  the  most  original 
parties  every  Tuesday  evening,  from  which  nonenti- 
ties were  rigidly  excluded.  Madame  H.  knew  of  my 
growing  interest  in  Lassalle,  and  as  I  entered  her 
drawing-room  one  Tuesday  evening  she  whispered  to 
me,  "  Lassalle  is  here  in  my  husband's  library, 
so  your  desire  to  know  him  will  be  fulfilled  at 
last." 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  him  first.  Do  not  introduce 
him  to  me  at  once,"  was  my  whispered  reply. 

I  was  then  placed  on  a  little  stool  at  the  back  of 
a  tall  sofa  through  the  carved  framework  of  which  I 
could  see  the  folding  doors  leading  into  the  library. 
They  opened,  and  two  gentlemen  stepped  with  the 
host  into  the  lighted  drawing-room. 

I  do  not  know  why,  but  having  heard  continually 
of  Lassalle's  mind  and  erudition,  I  had  imagined  him 
to  be  a  little  man  with  strongly  marked  Jewish 
features.  As  a  matter  of  fact  1  had  not  thought 
much  about  his  personal  appearance,  and  one  of  the 
men  was  exactly  as  I  have  just  described.  With 
him  entered  a  tall  figure  with  a  Caesar-like  head  and 
expression. 

It  never  entered  my  head  that  this  could  be 
Lassalle — the  little  Jew  must  be  he !  Clever  men 
are  ugly ;  but  the  tall,  imposing  one  began  to  speak, 
and  I  forgot  all  else. 

76 


FIRST  MEETING  WITH  LASSALLE 

I  could  only  listen  and  listen,  and  at  last,  in  a 
flash,  I  realised  that  it  must  be  he  and  no  other. 

Everyone  in  the  room  listened  spellbound  to  his 
conversation,  which  was  stormy  and  powerful,  sweep- 
ing over  everything  I  had  hitherto  considered  as 
unalterable  and  sacred. 

He  came  into  my  life  like  the  storm-wind  that 
rushes  over  forests  and  plains,  and  destroys  all  that 
is  crumbling  and  effete.  I  listened  entranced,  en- 
thusiastic, but  nevertheless  not  agreeing  with  every- 
thing he  was  saying.  Suddenly  I  sprang  up,  and 
forgetting  that  this  man  had  never  seen  me,  I 
interrupted  him  by  exclaiming,  "  No  I  I  do  not 
agree  with  you  there." 

For  one  moment  he  stopped ;  the  eagle  glance  of 
his  commanding  blue  eyes  was  directed  upon  me,  then 
a  smile  crept  over  his  classic  features,  and  stepping  up 
to  me  he  said  softly,  "  Ho,  ho !  so  this  is  what  she 
looks  like  1  I  thought  so  !  That's  all  right.  And  " 
— laughing  heartily — "  '  No '  is  the  first  word  I  hear 
spoken  by  this  mortal  ? " 

It  was  all  over.  In  that  very  first  moment  he 
could  have  said  that  which  he  did  a  little  later  :  "  We 
both  knew  that  we  had  met  our  destiny  in  each 
other." 

The  people  around  us  were  forgotten.  We 
became  oblivious  of  the  little  salon  and  all  conven- 
tions. We  discussed  anything  and  everything  be- 
tween heaven  and  earth.  We  spoke  of  ourselves, 
and  he  mentioned  our  future,  as  if  we  belonged  to 
each  other  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  as  if  our  union 
were  known  and  sanctioned  by  all. 

Of  course  we  remained  together  the  whole  evening. 
According  to  the  original  and  conventional  traditions 
of  the  household  the  guests  were  asked  to  decide 
what  they  would  prefer  to  eat,  and  this  was  procured 
from  a  restaurant  near  by.  The  host's  ample  and 
famous  wine-cellar  was  at  the  disposal  of  the  guests, 
and  bottle   after  bottle   of  the   costliest  wine   was 

77 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

placed  before   them.      The   evening    passed  like  a 
dream. 

When  at  last  my  relations  got  up  to  leave,  Lassalle 
came  out  into  the  hall  with  me,  wrapped  me  up  care- 
fully in  my  cloak,  and,  impatient  at  the  long  farewells 
in  the  drawing-room,  opened  the  door  of  the  flat, 
lifted  me  high  in  his  arms,  and  carried  me  downstairs. 

No  protest  was  made  by  me  at  such  an  absolutely 
incredible  proceeding!  It  all  seemed  to  me  so 
natural — so  much  a  matter  of  course.  My  happiness 
made  me  oblivious  of  the  world,  and  everything  he 
uttered  seemed  to  flow  from  my  own  soul  I 

It  was  only  when  we  had  arrived  at  my  door,  and 
when  he  said  to  me,  "To-morrow  I  am  coming  to 
grandmamma  to  get  her  consent,"  that  I  suddenly 
awoke  to  the  dreadful  reality  that  this  man  to  whom 
I  had  given  in  one  instant  my  whole  heart  for  all 
eternity,  would  never  be  accepted  by  any  member  of 
my  family.  Tremblingly  I  implored  him  not  to  do 
this,  but  to  wait  patiently,  as  the  time  had  not  yet 
come  to  take  such  a  step. 

Seeing  my  anxiety  he  sighed  and  acquiesced,  but 
said  half-warningly,  "  May  we  never  regret  the  time 
we  are  losing." 

We  parted,  and  it  was  many,  many  months  before 
we  met  again. 

Now,  when  1  look  back  at  the  way  I  then  acted,  I 
can  hardly  realise  that  I  was  the  undecided  being  who 
allowed  family  considerations  to  play  havoc  with  my 
happiness  and  that  of  the  man  I  adored. 

It  is  easy  enough,  when  one  knows  the  end,  to 
look  back  and  say  one  should  have  acted  otherwise, 
but  I  was  so  young  then,  life  seemed  so  long,  and 
confidence  in  the  future  a  natural  thing. 

I  now  began  to  take  the  greatest  interest  in  all 
Lassalle's  work  and  speeches. 

I  said  to  Yanko  next  day,  "  I  have  met  Lassalle, 
and  if  he  really  wishes  it  I  mean  to  marry  him  ;  he  is 
the  ideal  of  the  man  I  have  always  sought." 

78 


STUDY  OF  LASSALLE'S  WORKS 

"In  heaven's  name,"  he  exclaimed  horrified,  "a 
man  whom  you  have  only  seen  for  a  few  hours,  and 
at  a  time  when  he  and  his  friends  were  excited  by 
wine  and  eloquence,  a  man  of  whom  we  have  heard 
only  the  most  unfavourable  reports  ? " 

I  flared  up.  "  Say  nothing  against  him.  I  don't 
ask  your  opinion,  but  only  tell  you  facts.  Now  be 
good.  Prove  you  love  me,  and  get  me  everything 
Lassalle  has  ever  written." 

He  did  so.  The  reading  of  these  pamphlets  was 
not  an  easy  matter  to  accomplish,  and  we  had  re- 
course to  the  ruse  of  slipping  them  inside  the  classical 
works.    Yanko  and  I  studied  together  every  evening. 

In  the  next  room  grandmamma,  my  old  uncle, 
and  my  young  aunt  usually  sat  playing  Thombre.  My 
dear  little  Aunt  Sophie,  who  was  much  nearer  my 
age  than  that  of  her  husband,  was  in  our  secret,  and 
when  grandmamma  overheard  a  word  now  and  then, 
and  asked  what  we  were  reading,  Aunt  Sophie  replied, 
"Oh,  they  are  trying  a  Greek  philosopher  that 
Racowitza  has  brought  with  him."  Thus,  no  one 
troubled  about  us,  and  we  became  more  and  more 
entranced  with  Lassalle's  burning  eloquence. 

We  also  tried  to  read  Heraclitus  the  Dark,  but  it 
seemed  too  difficult  to  understand,  so  we  laid  it  aside, 
although  Yanko  —  who  was  studying  law  at  the 
Berlin  University — promised  to  help  me  over  the 
technical  difficulties. 

I  have  often  been  reproached  with  having  a 
certain  strain  of  cruelty  in  my  nature,  and  there  may 
be  some  truth  in  this.  I  always  demanded  and  ob- 
tained from  my  admirers  unequivocal  recognition  of 
the  superior  qualities  of  their  favoured  rivals.  In 
Yanko's  case,  when  he  at  first  refused  to  study 
Lassalle's  works  with  me,  I  said,  "  You  must.  You 
owe  it  to  yourself.  You  ought  to  know  how  great  is 
the  intellect  of  the  man  I  prefer  to  you,  for  when 
you  recognise  the  superiority  of  his  mind  your  pride 
will  no  longer  suffer." 

79 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

He  gave  in,  though  with  an  anxious  heart,  but  as 
from  the  first  his  literary  tastes  had  been  fashioned 
on  the  pattern  of  mine,  I  knew  he  could  not  resist 
the  force  of  Lassalle's  glowing  spirit.  We  read  the 
"  Cassette  "  case  with  the  greatest  interest,  and  this 
gave  me  a  deeper  insight  into  Lassalle's  character. 
Yanko  was  carried  away  by  Ferdinand's  youthful 
enthusiasm,  and  by  his  famous  speech  of  defence,  in 
which  Countess  Hatzfeld  is  described  as  one  of  the 
noblest  of  women,  brutally  maligned  by  an  unfaithful 
husband. 

We  had  both  heard,  as  no  doubt  have  many  of  my 
readers,  very  superficial  details  of  the  once  famous 
"  Cassette  "  theft  case,  which  took  place  in  1848.  It 
had  been  mentioned  in  my  family  as  a  very  nasty 
affair.  The  real  facts  were  as  follows :  Count 
Hatzfeld  had  deserted  his  young  and  beautiful  wife 
for  the  sake  of  his  mistress  Frau  von  Megendorf,  and 
had  thrown  her  on  the  world  with  hardly  any  means 
of  subsistence.  At  that  time  Lassalle,  who  was  then 
a  youth  of  twenty,  met  and,  it  was  said,  loved  her. 
He  devoted  all  his  youth  and  brilliant  capacities  in 
the  defence  of  her  cause,  renouncing,  for  her  sake,  all 
the  splendid  possibilities  the  future  held  for  one  who 
completed  his  studies  with  such  distinction.  I  had 
not  the  slightest  doubt  that  she  fully  responded  to 
his  love.  How  could  it  be  otherwise,  when  to-day, 
though  nearly  forty,  he  was  still  so  handsome  and 
imposing,  so  like  a  Roman  Caesar.  What  power  he 
must  have  held  in  the  full  flush  of  his  youthful 
beauty. 

Lassalle  had  denied  before  the  judges  at  Diisseldorf 
all  intimate  intercourse  with  the  Countess.  To  us 
this  was  but  another  proof  of  chivalry.  Full  of 
emotion  we  read  the  following  words  in  his  speech 
for  the  defence :  "  Not  a  word  from  the  entire  family. 
An  old  proverb  says  that  when  human  beings  remain 
dumb,  stones  will  cry  out.  When  every  right  of 
humanity  is  outraged,  when  even  the  voice  of  blood 

80 


THE  "CASSETTE"  STORY 

is  silent,  and  a  helpless  human  being  is  deserted  by 
its  born  protectors,  let  the  voice  of  universal  brother- 
hood be  raised  and  man  usurp  his  right  to  shield  his 
weaker  fellow-man." 

How  often  I  remembered  these  words  in  later 
years,  when  I  was  deserted  by  all,  and  longed  in  vain 
for  a  helping  hand. 

I  learnt  during  the  perusal  of  the  case  that  the 
reproach  against  Lassalle  of  accepting  pecuniary  aid 
from  Countess  Hatzfeld  was  unjust.  Until  he 
brought  her  divorce  case  to  a  satisfactory  end  he 
shared  with  her  the  modest  income  allowed  him  by 
his  father ;  and  during  ten  years  of  his  life  devoted 
his  entire  time  and  talents  to  her  cause.  Then,  and 
then  only,  he  allowed  her  to  settle  a  certain  yearly 
income  on  him,  as  surely  she  would  have  done  by 
any  eminent  lawyer  who  had  sacrificed  years  of  work 
and  study  in  her  service.  I  may  mention  here  that 
Ferdinand  himself  told  me  later  on  in  the  Berne 
period,  when  speaking  of  his  pecuniary  position,  that 
his  income  was  about  £1000  a  year  (seven  thousand 
talers),  the  chief  portion  of  which  was  derived  from 
the  snares  his  father  had  left  him  in  the  Breslau  gas- 
works. 

To  return  to  the  "  Cassette  "  story.  Lassalle  left 
no  stone  unturned  in  order  to  prove  Count  Hatz- 
feld's  brutality  to  his  wife,  and  his  utterly  reckless  ex- 
penditure on  gifts  to  Frau  von  Megendorf.  These 
immense  sums  threatened  to  ruin  the  family.  Lassalle's 
great  object  was  to  obtain  the  Count's  correspondence 
and  these  deeds  of  gift. 

In  this  he  was  successful.  Two  of  his  friends, 
Oppenheim  and  Mendelssohn,  managed,  when  on  a 
journey,  to  steal,  either  from  Frau  von  Megendorf,  or 
from  her  servants,  the  casket  which  contained,  as  it 
was  supposed,  all  these  important  papers.  Lassalle 
was  accused  of  being  the  instigator  of  this  theft,  but 
proved  (when  only  twenty  years  of  age),  in  a  speech 
of  defence  lasting  four  hours,  that  this  was  impossible. 

81  g 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

He  was  acquitted,  and  by  his  eloquence  in  this,  his 
first  public  speech,  became  the  greatest  German 
orator. 

Now  came  the  time  when  Lassalle  was  the  central 
figure  of  my  existence,  and  by  some  fatality  I  heard 
of  him  continually  without  ever  meeting  him  again. 
At  Lassalle  s  instigation  various  plans  were  made  by 
my  kind  friend  Frau  Formes  to  bring  us  together 
under  her  hospitable  roof,  but  none  of  them  were 
successful. 

My  grandmammas  house  stood  then  on  the  present 
site  of  the  Houses  of  Parliament.  In  one  of  the  flats 
lived  the  famous  historian  Boeckh  with  his  family,  in 
the  very  dwelling  once  occupied  by  the  brothers 
Grimm  (authors  of  the  well-known  fairy  tales).  We 
often  visited  the  Boeckhs,  and  one  afternoon  at 
coffee  the  conversation  turned  on  Lassalle. 

Old  Boeckh  said  in  response  to  some  remark, 
"Lassalle  is  the  most  eminent  and  witty  man  I 
know." 

I  could  have  hugged  him  ;  then  a  noted  society 
beauty  added,  "Lassalle  is  the  handsomest  man  I 
have  ever  seen."  Old  Boeckh  smiled,  and  told  a 
story  of  how  Lassalle  had  helped  Heinrich  Heine 
in  Paris  in  1846,  when  the  latter  was  involved  in 
complicated  affairs ;  Heine  spoke  of  himself  as  an 
antelope  who  had  placed  himself  under  the  protection 
of  a  young  lion,  and  when  Lassalle  returned  to  Berlin 
gave  him  several  rapturous  letters  of  recommendation 
to  various  eminent  people.  "  But,"  said  one  of  those 
present,  "this  Lassalle,  friend  of  the  working  class, 
leads  a  most  immoral  and  luxurious  life  in  the 
Bellevue  Strasse  with  his  old  Countess.  He  lives  in 
a  princely  way." 

The  speaker,  however,  had  come  to  the  wrong 
person,  for  the  historian  replied  angrily,  "  Oh  well, 
if  you  want  to  judge  exceptional  people  by  the 
ordinary  moral  standards,  then  you  cannot  understand 
them.      Lassalle's  character  is  a  curious  mixture  of 

82 


HEINE'S  OPINION  OF  LASSALLE 

the  ancient  and  modern — perhaps  only  comparable  in 
history  with  that  of  Alcibiades ;  hypersensitive,  yet 
brave ;  a  warrior,  yet  with  a  keen  appreciation  of  the 
art  of  luxurious  living.  During  my  long  life  I  have 
not  known  his  equal." 

This  was  a  proud  moment  for  me,  to  hear  such 
praise  of  the  man  to  whom  I  felt  I  belonged  entirely, 
and  by  such  a  competent  judge.  Boeckh  also  spoke 
of  his  eminence  in  philology,  philosophy,  and  states- 
manship, and  added,  "His  speeches  for  defence 
testify  to  his  extraordinary  capacity  as  an  advocate." 

I  will  now  quote  Heinrich  Heine's  famous  letter 
to  Lassalle,  written  on  January  3,  1846,  when  the 
latter  was  only  twenty  years  of  age,  as  it  may  interest 
many  of  my  readers  to  hear  the  great  opinion  the 
brilliant  poet  had  of  this  young  man. 

My  friend  Mr.  Lassalle,  who  will  present  this  letter  to  you, 
is  a  most  highly  gifted  young  man,  and  one  who  unites  the 
widest  knowledge  with  the  greatest  astuteness.  I  have  been 
astounded  at  his  energy  of  will  power,  of  conception,  and 
promptness  of  action.  This  combination  of  knowledge  and 
strength,  talent  and  character,  in  one  so  young  has  been  a 
great  surprise  as  well  as  a  delight  to  me.  Lassalle  is  a  true 
child  of  modern  times ;  one  who  wishes  to  know  nothing  of  the 
renunciation  and  humility  which  have  been  the  keynotes  of  our 
lives. 

This  new  race  wishes  to  enjoy,  to  assert  itself  in  a  visible 
manner  ;  whereas  we  old  ones  bent  the  knee  before  the  invisible 
world,  reached  forth  for  shadowy  kisses,  and  the  scent  of  azure 
blossoms.  We  were  consumed  by  fires  of  exultation,  and  were 
maybe  happier  in  our  idealism  than  these  stern  gladiators  who 
go  forth  so  proudly  to  their  deadly  combats. 

Shortly  after  this  I  heard  still  more  interesting 
details  of  him  from  another  source. 

I  knew  a  lady  who  was  the  wife  of  one  of 
Bismarck's  confidential  secretaries.  The  lady  herself 
was  not  clever,  but  as  her  husband  was  verv  much  in 
love  with  her,  he  had  no  secrets  from  her.  He  had 
spoken  to  her  of  my  acquaintance  with  Lassalle,  and 
of  old  Boeckh's  praises  of  him.     She  was  a  child  of 

83 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

the  people,  and  had  never  been  able  to  acquire  the 
manners  of  society,  or  learn  the  diplomacy  of 
silence.  Hence  the  following  speech :  "  My  good- 
ness !  That's  just  Bismarck's  opinion  of  Lassalle ! 
My  husband  says  that  Bismarck  is  simply  delighted 
with  him,  and  that  no  one's  conversation  has  in- 
terested him  so  much  for  a  long  time." 

"Really,"  I  exclaimed.  "Then  what  I  heard 
whispered  is  true,  that  Lassalle  is  a  great  deal  with 
Bismarck." 

"  Yes,  certainly,  but " 

The  conversation  was  at  this  moment  interrupted 
by  the  entrance  of  her  husband  who,  on  hearing  the 
subject  of  our  conversation,  said  to  his  wife  :  "  Hush, 
hush  1  Do  not  speak  of  things  you  do  not  under- 
stand.    Women  should  not  mix  in  politics." 

But  I  had  heard  enough  to  delight  me.  In  later 
years  my  thoughts  reverted  to  that  afternoon  and 
her  naive  revelations,  when  I  read  Bismarck's 
celebrated  parliamentary  speech,  which  was  as 
follows : — 

In  private  life  Lassalle  possessed  an  extraordinary  attraction 
for  me,  and  was  one  of  the  most  witty  and  amiable  men  I  have 
ever  met.  A  man  who  was  ambitious  in  the  greatest  sense  of  the 
word.  He  was  by  no  means  a  republican,  his  turn  of  mind  was 
distinctly  national  and  monarchical,  and  his  ideas  gravitated 
towards  German  Imperial  Government.  Here,  of  course,  we  met 
on  common  ground.  I  think  he  was  somewhat  doubtful  as  to 
whether  this  Imperial  Government  would  be  better  entrusted 
in  the  hands  of  the  Hohenzollern  or  the  Lassalle  Dynasty,  but 
in  any  case  his  opinions  were  monarchical  through  and  through. 
He  would  have  been  the  first  to  repudiate  all  connection  with 
the  various  agitating  parties  who  now  profess  to  be  his  followers  ; 
and  would  have  torn  his  name  from  their  standards  and  hurled 
them  indignantly  from  him.  He  was  a  most  energetic  and 
clever  man,  and  I  found  our  conversations,  which  sometimes 
lasted  for  hours,  most  instructive.  I  was  always  sorry  when 
they  ended. 

He  and  I  had  not  met  again.  In  the  meantime 
I  had  become  much  attached  to  a  charming  couple 

84 


SOLICITOR  HOLTHOFF 

named  Holthoff,  old  family  friends,  who  had  come 
to  settle  in  Berlin.  Grandmammas  health  was 
beginning  to  fail,  so  I  was  allowed  to  go  to  balls, 
theatres,  and  concerts  under  their  chaperonage. 

One  evening  we  all  went  to  one  of  Billow's 
concerts,  and  before  it  began  Papa  Holthoff,  as  I 
called  him,  left  his  seat  to  chat  with  some  friends. 
The  first  person  I  saw  him  shake  hands  with  was — 
Lassalle !  Then  Holthoff  came  back  to  us.  My 
heart  beat  wildly.  This  was  the  first  time  I  had  seen 
the  man  I  secretly  loved,  since  that  one  memorable 
evening. 

"You  know  Lassalle,"  I  said  softly. 

"  Of  course,  I  have  been  his  friend  and  lawyer  for 
many  years.     Do  you  know  him  too  ?  " 

"No,  no!" 

The  music  now  interrupted  our  conversation.  In 
the  interval  Holthoff  went  up  again  to  Lassalle.  I 
saw  them  both  talking  and  looking  towards  me. 
Lassalle  smiled.  When  Holthoff  returned,  he  said, 
"  Now,  little  daughter,  out  with  it.  What  is  there 
between  you  and  Lassalle  ? " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  He  received  me  with  almost  the  same  words 
that  you  uttered  just  now.  '  Do  you  know  Fraulein 
von  Donniges  ? '  and  when  I  said,  '  Yes  ;  do  you  ? ' 
he  replied,  *  No,  no,' — just  as  you  did.  What  does  it 
all  mean  ? " 

"  Nothing,  we  met  once,  and  then  no  more." 

"  But  wish  you  had,  eh  ? " 

"  Yes,  very  much." 

"  Very  well.  That's  not  difficult.  Both  of  you 
are  like  our  own  children  to  us." 

How  happy  I  felt  that  evening,  for  our  hasty 
greeting  and  hand  pressure  in  the  cloak-room  had 
conveyed  to  us  both  the  unsaid  words,  "  Nothing  has 
changed.     We  belong  to  each  other." 

The  next  occasion  on  which  we  met  was  at  a 
festival  in  honour  of  Uhland,  the  poet.    I  was  sur- 

85 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

rounded  by  my  family,  and  he  sat  near  us  with  the 
Holthoffs.  We  had  no  opportunity  of  conversing, 
but  our  glances  conveyed  to  each  other  the  sympathy 
of  our  thoughts. 

Soon  after  this  a  dreadful  thing  happened. 

Papa  Holthoff,  without  consulting  me,  asked  my 
grandmother  how  my  family  would  receive  an  offer 
from  Lassalle  to  marry  me  !  Grandmamma  wrote  to 
my  father  about  it.  He  was  then  acting  as  Bavarian 
Minister  in  Berne,  and  answered  by  a  most  indignant 
refusal. 

When  told  of  all  this  by  grandmamma,  I  replied, 
"  How  can  you  have  done  such  a  thing  without 
Lassalle's  or  my  permission  ?  I  shall  take  no  notice 
of  it  whatever." 

We  never  mentioned  the  subject  again. 

One  of  the  most  brilliant  public  balls  of  the  season, 
given  by  members  of  the  bar,  was  about  to  take 
place.  I  was  going  to  it  with  the  Holthoffs,  and 
"  Papa "  had  whispered  to  me  that  a  certain  well- 
known  man,  who  never  went  to  balls,  had  applied  for 
a  ticket,  because  he  wanted  to  talk  to  me  undisturbed, 
and  this  was  best  managed  in  such  a  crowd. 

The  decisive  moment  was  at  hand,  and  I  intended 
to  meet  it  fully  armed.  I  started,  as  poor  Yanko 
said  later,  "  adorned  like  a  king's  bride." 

I  was  in  white  silk — white  has  always  been  my 
favourite  colour — with  white  roses  and  sheaves  of 
silver  corn  in  my  red-gold  hair. 

As  I  entered  the  crowded  ball-room  on  Holthoffs 
arm  the  dear  old  man  said,  "  Let  us  go  and  seek  the 
hero  of  the  day." 

"  He  is  not  here  yet,"  I  replied. 

"  How  can  you  possibly  know  that  in  this  crowd  ? 
Even  I,  who  am  taller  than  most  people,  cannot  see 
if  he  is  here  or  not." 

"  No  I  I  know  he  is  not  here,"  I  said  again,  "  for 
I  have  not  the  strange  sensation  I  always  get  when 
he  is  near  me." 

86 


CONVERSATION  WITH  LASSALLE 

"  In  heaven  s  name,  little  daughter,  don't  begin  to 
get  nerves." 

"  Now  he  is  coming,"  I  exclaimed,  and  Holthoff 
nodded  in  astonishment,  for  there  in  the  doorway, 
speaking  to  a  friend,  stood  Lassalle,  who  then  came 
straight  towards  us. 

The  feeling  I  have  just  mentioned  is  difficult  to 
define.  It  was  a  mixture  of  bliss  and  fear ;  some- 
thing I  have  never  experienced  either  before  or  since. 
My  heart  seemed  to  contract  within  me,  and  at  the 
same  time  my  soul  flew  towards  him  rejoicing.  As  a 
matter  of  course  he  simply  removed  my  arm  from 
HolthofFs,  placed  it  within  his  own,  and  led  me  to  a 
corner  for  a  serious  talk.  "  For,"  said  he,  "  we  have 
important  things  to  discuss,  and  my  time  is  short.  I 
cannot  run  the  gauntlet  here  for  long." 

"  Run  the  gauntlet  ? "  I  replied. 

"  Yes  1  Every  one  will  wonder  what  Lassalle,  the 
man  of  the  people,  can  be  doing  here  !  He  ought  to 
be  at  home  studying.  Not  that  I  care  for  people's 
gossip,  as,  thank  heaven,  I  don't  carry  the  donkey ; 
and,  mark  you  well,  child,  no  one  who  comes  with 
me  will  ever  be  allowed  to  carry  it." 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ? "  I  asked,  laughing. 

"  Ah  I  That  story  marks  an  epoch  in  my  life. 
My  father  wished  me  to  go  into  business,  but  I 
wanted  to  study.  There  were  great  discussions,  in 
which  all  my  relations  and  friends  joined.  Strife 
entered  our  household.  My  mother  and  sisters  sided 
with  me,  the  others  with  my  father,  and,  'What 
will  people  say  ? '  was  heard  on  every  side.  I  took 
up  an  old  book  of  fables  and  read  a  story  of  a  grand- 
father with  his  grandchild  who  were  driving  a  donkey 
into  the  town.  A  man  met  them  and  said,  'Why 
on  earth  do  you  let  the  donkey  bear  no  burden  ?  Let 
him  carry  the  child.'  And  so  the  grandfather  did. 
A  second  person  came  along  and  said,  'Aren't  you 
ashamed,  young  one,  to  be  riding  with  your  young 
legs  when  your  grandfather  is  walking  ? '     The  boy 

87 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  BACOWITZA 

got  down  and  the  old  man  got  up.  Next  they  met  a 
woman  who  called  out,  *  Poor  child !  Look  at  the 
hard-hearted  father  riding  comfortably,  whilst  his 
poor  little  child  has  to  run  after  him.'  At  this  the 
grandfather  took  the  child  as  well  upon  his  donkey, 
who  trotted  on  merrily  with  the  two  of  them.  But 
not  for  long ;  for  next  they  met  a  scholar  with  stock 
and  spectacles  who  called  out,  *  For  shame !  For 
shame  1  to  torment  a  poor  animal  so.  Two  of  you 
on  his  back  in  such  heat ! '  At  this  they  both  got 
down,  and  in  utter  despair  lifted  the  donkey  up  bodily 
and  carried  him  into  the  town.  Thus  they  tried  to 
please  every  one." 

I  laughed  heartily.  He  was  delighted,  but  added, 
"  Make  no  mistake.  Neither  of  us  is  to  carry  the 
donkey.  It  is  chiefly  owing  to  that  little  story  that 
I  take  no  notice  of  what  people  say,  and  go  my  own 
way." 

I  looked  up  at  him  admiringly.  Yes  1  That 
proud  Caesar-like  head  with  its  dominating,  deep-blue 
eyes,  was  the  very  incarnation  of  energy. 

I  told  him  this,  and  he  said,  "  I  shall  need  it  all 
for  my  *  fox.'  Of  course  you  know  that  Korff  calls 
you  '  Golden  Fox '  ?  When  he  first  met  you  he  came 
rushing  to  me  the  next  morning  and  called  out  in  the 
doorway,  '  Lassalle,  I  have  found  a  wife  for  you,  but 
she  is  a  fox.' " 

So  we  chatted  gaily  for  a  time.  Then  he  said 
seriously,  "  Time  presses,  and  I  must  begin  my  plan 
of  campaign.  Tell  me,  what  are  your  father  and 
mother  like  ?  How  can  I  win  their  good  graces  ?  I 
will  make  Boeckh  give  me  a  letter  of  introduction  to 
them,  and  will  go  and  see  them." 

I  felt  terrified.  He  saw  it,  and  said,  "You  see 
how  necessary  my  energy  is,  for  in  spite  of  being  a 
woman  of  the  world  you  are  still  a  little  weak  child, 
with  no  will  at  all.  Never  mind !  I  will  manage 
everything  without  your  help." 

I  then  described  my  parents  and  their  tastes,  and 

88 


A  BIRTHDAY  GIFT 

my  home.  He  said,  "  This  is  delightful.  They  will 
receive  a  scholar  and  poet  with  open  arms." 

How  often  have  I  since  wished  that  he  had  carried 
his  project  into  execution  then,  and  seen  my  parents 
before  other  people  had  poisoned  their  minds  against 
him.  How  different  everything  might  have  been  I  I 
then  told  Lassalle  of  that  afternoon  at  old  Boeckh's, 
and  how  a  pretty  woman  said  he  was  the  handsomest 
man  she  had  ever  seen.  This  pleased  him  enormously. 
"  I  don't  care  for  all  Boeckh's  praises  of  my  talents, 
but  to  be  the  handsomest  man  means  something. 
I'll  have  that  inscribed  on  my  tombstone,"  he  said, 
laughing. 

Another  incident  that  happened  in  the  ball-room 
was  that  Yanko — my  Moorish  page — came  up  to 
ask  me  to  dance.  "  Is  that  Lassalle,"  he  said.  I 
nodded.  His  dark  eyes  blazed  with  jealousy,  and  I 
said,  "Anyway  he  looks  distinguished,"  and  we 
danced  madly  until  the  music  ended,  when  he  took 
me  back  to  Mamma  Holthoff.  Lassalle  stood  beside 
her  and  for  a  second  they  eyed  each  other,  then  Yanko 
turned  and  mingled  with  the  crowd.  The  next  time 
Lassalle  and  Yanko  met  it  was  with  levelled  weapons. 

Lassalle  said,  "So  that  is  the  Moorish  prince  I 
am  to  take  you  away  from  ?  " 

I  answered,  "  Oh,  that  is  a  matter  of  no  import- 
ance." 

"  With  those  eyes  ?  Never  mind !  I  will  give 
you  up  to  no  one.  I  would  carry  you  off  from  the 
altar  itself  before  you  could  say  •  yes ' — for  mark  you, 
we  are  each  other's  Fate  I " 

Thus  ended  our  happy  evening.  We  met  no  more 
that  winter. 

My  birthday,  March  21,  arrived.  I  generally 
received  on  that  day  poems  referring  to  Spring,  in  a 
huge  basket  of  flowers.  This  time  there  was  an 
anonymous  poem  amongst  them,  but  a  reference  to 
"  Fox  "  and  the  monogram  "  F.  L. "  upon  the  paper, 
told  me  where  they  came  from.     This  dear  poem,  as 

89 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

well  as  the  letters  of  Lassalle,  were  all  taken  away 
from  me  by  the  cruelty  of  my  father. 

I  cannot  hold  my  peace,  nor  purchase  now 
By  silence,  shelter  for  my  body's  need. 
My  spirit  moves  me,  I  must  testify 
To  all  its  pow'r,  nor  can  I  quench 
Its  mighty  flood.     The  more  the  need  increase 
Till  all  withdraw  within  their  own  domain 
In  dire  despair,  as  if  the  pest  had  come, 
And  creep  in  silence  past  each  other  there, 
The  more  my  spirit  moves  me  to  be  up 
And  throw  myself  against  its  devastation 
To  fight  the  more,  the  more  it  threatens  us  ! 
Oh  !  if  a  thousand  tongues  were  now  but  mine, 
With  every  one  would  I  address  the  land. 
Far  rather  would  I,  like  the  hunted  prey, 
Drag  on  from  place  to  place,  than  now  despair, 
Or  lose  my  faith  in  truth !     No  praise  for  this 
I  merit  now  Franciscus  !     Many  live 
Who  bitterly  reproach  me  for  it  all. 
And  yet  I  think,  if  but  the  truth  were  told, 
I  merit  not  their  praises  nor  their  blame. 
If  I  possess  a  soul  that  deeper  feels 
Than  others  do,  the  sorrows  of  this  world, 
And  comprehends  the  universal  need, 
'Tis  not  to  praise  or  blame — 'twas  given  me. 

Another  joyful  event  took  place  on  this  birthday. 
Mamma  Holthoff  invited  me  to  go  with  her  next  day 
to  meet  Lassalle's  sister,  Frau  von  Friedland,  and  she 
added,  "  No  doubt  we  shall  find  the  brother  in  'Papa's' 
library." 

What  a  happy  afternoon  it  was.  I  found  in  Frau 
von  Friedland  at  once  a  warm  supporter  who  said  to 
me,  "  Yes  1  You  are  the  wife  I  have  always  wished 
for  Ferdinand." 

And  he !  This  was  the  first  occasion  on  which  we 
met  more  intimately.  Papa  Holthoff  left  us  a  short 
time  alone  in  his  study  and  joined  the  ladies  in  the 
drawing-room  opposite.  Then  Ferdinand  knelt  beside 
the  big  arm-chair  in  which  I  was  seated,  kissed  me 
passionately  and  said  gently,  "Will  you  be  mine, 
rise  with  me  to  all  heights,  and  go  with  me  through 
all  dangers  ?  " 

90 


SWORN  TO  SECRECY 

I  answered,  again  under  the  influence  of  that 
peculiar  feeling  of  blissful  fear  which  I  always  ex- 
perienced when  near  him,  "  As  if  it  could  be  other- 
wise ? " 

When  Holthoff  returned  he  heard  Lassalle  saying, 
u  Oh  !  If  this  child  hadn't  such  a  weak  will."  Then 
he  said,  smiling,  "Lassalle,  you  call  this  woman  of 
the  world  always  ■ child.'     Don't  you  know .  .  ." 

"To  me  she  will  always  be  a  child." 

Holthoff  held  up  the  handle  of  a  dagger  before  us 
in  the  form  of  a  cross,  and  made  us  swear  upon  the 
holy  token  that  we  would  never  tell  any  one  what  had 
taken  place  in  his  house  that  afternoon.  I  took  the 
oath,  but  Lassalle  said,  "  No.  I  do  not  believe  in  this 
token,  but  I  will  swear  by  the  most  sacred  thing  there 
is  for  me  on  this  earth — by  the  hand  of  this  child." 

This  happy  meeting  ended,  and  we  saw  each  other 
no  more  in  Berlin. 


91 


CHAPTER  XV 

My  grandmamma  became  very  ill.  The  doctors 
declared  she  had  only  a  few  weeks  to  live,  and  I 
hardly  left  her  side.  I  was  very,  very  unhappy,  for 
with  the  death  of  this  clever,  unusual  woman,  I 
should  lose  the  only  member  of  my  family  whom  I 
really  loved. 

A  few  days  before  her  death  she  called  Yanko  to 
her  side,  and  told  him  she  knew  how  little  my  mother 
understood  me  ;  how  uncongenial  my  life  would  be 
under  my  parents'  roof,  in  spite  of  its  brilliant  social 
advantages,  and  she  made  him  swear  never  to  forsake 
me;  to  protect  me  against  misfortune  even  at  the 
risk  of  his  own  happiness. 

The  good  fellow  promised,  and  told  me  of  it.  I 
felt  he  would  keep  his  word.  He  wept  and  sorrowed 
with  me  when  grandmamma  left  us,  and  in  him  I 
found  a  protector  and  consoler. 

Soon  after  her  death  I  was  obliged  to  return  to  my 
parents,  who  had  left  Berne.  As  the  climate  did  not 
suit  my  mother,  they  had  taken  a  villa  in  Geneva. 
Here,  as  in  Munich,  they  kept  open  house  and  every- 
body of  note  and  interest  in  Geneva  gravitated 
towards  it. 

One  met  there  the  famous  scholars  Claparede, 
Latour,  Favre,  and  many  others,  also  another  and 
more  interesting  coterie  of  Hungarian  political 
refugees, — General  Klapka,  Count  Teleki,  Count 
Karatschai  with  his  family,  likewise  that  of  Count 
Karolyi.     All  of  them  were  wafted  towards  Geneva 

92 


SOCIETY  IN  GENEVA 

by  the  storms  of  1848.  No  doubt  they  had  all 
suffered  from  the  narrowness  and  avarice  of  the  so- 
called  "aristocracy"  of  Geneva  and  hailed  with  delight 
the  wider  atmosphere  of  my  fathers  hospitable  house. 

Of  course  I  felt  myself  more  attracted  by  this 
Hungarian  society  than  by  that  of  Geneva.  In  the 
latter  I  found  only  one  closer  acquaintance — a  certain 
Countess  Diodati,  who  had  cosmopolitan  tastes. 

The  winter  slipped  away  ;  Yanko  came  for  a  short 
visit  and  was  regarded  by  the  whole  of  society  as  my 
fiance\ 

I  think  my  parents  spread  this  report  in  order 
to  quench  within  me  every  hope  of  marriage  with 
Lassalle.  I  contradicted  nothing,  because  I  was  then 
a  very  weak  creature,  with  no  will  at  all.  In  fact,  as 
I  had  had  no  direct  news  from  Lassalle  for  months, 
and  Papa  Holthoff  had  informed  me  of  his  great 
political  difficulties,  I  decided — should  marriage  prove 
impossible  with  Lassalle — to  accept  Yanko.  Any- 
thing rather  than  live  in  my  parents'  house  with  my 
cold-hearted  mother.  No  doubt  this  sentiment  was 
far  from  noble,  and  would  have  been  impossible  to 
me  later,  but  as  I  was  a  true  child  of  the  world  then, 
it  seemed  natural  enough.  Matters,  however,  were 
not  to  run  so  smoothly. 

It  was  summer-time,  and  the  soft  hot  Geneva 
climate  was  like  poison  to  my  nerves,  therefore  an 
invitation  from  an  English  friend  to  take  me  with  her 
near  Berne  was  joyfully  accepted. 

I  must  pause  here  to  tell  those  unacquainted  with 
Lassalle's  life  what  were  the  important  matters  that 
made  him  put  our  love-affair  in  the  background  as  a 
mere  episode. 

Perhaps,  after  all,  neither  of  us  had  reached  the 
climax  of  feeling,  although  Lassalle  regarded  our 
subsequent  union  so  much  as  a  matter  of  course,  that 
he  said,  "  We  can  afford  to  be  patient.  Life  is  long, 
and  Destiny  has  ordained  us  for  each  other." 

I  have  hitherto  only  spoken  of  Lassalle  as  orator 

93 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

and  revolutionist.  Certainly  he  was  a  revolutionist, 
but  not  in  the  blind  manner  most  people  credited  him 
with.  His  convictions  were  based  on  hard,  earnest 
study  of  Greek  philosophy,  Roman  law,  and  all 
branches  of  historical  knowledge  and  political  economy. 
His  "  revolution  "  was  to  evolve  naturally,  and  blood- 
lessly,  not  to  descend  furiously  with  burning  torches, 
but  to  be  the  outcome  of  the  education  and  conviction 
of  the  masses. 

In  order  to  follow  his  development  we  must 
realise  the  fact  that,  in  spite  of  his  revolutionary 
principles,  science  attracted  him  more  than  politics. 

However,  a  time  came  when  the  tranquillity  of 
study  and  his  cultivated  enjoyment  of  life  paled 
before  the  burning  sympathy  that  seized  his  soul  for 
the  wrongs  of  suffering  humanity. 

It  was  the  time  when  Bismarck  was  Prime 
Minister,  and  his  far-seeing  political  eye  recognised 
the  greatness  of  Lassalle's  capacities,  and  scented  in 
him  no  mean  rival. 

Lassalle  was  publicly  accused  of  wishing  to  upset 
the  existing  Government  by  political  agitation  in 
favour  of  universal  suffrage.  In  his  famous  speech 
of  defence  he  spoke  as  follows :  "  Very  well, 
gentlemen,  although  I  am  a  private  individual  I  can 
tell  you  this.  Not  only  do  I  wish  to  overthrow  the 
present  Government,  but  I  shall  do  it  within  a  year. 
Perhaps,  before  a  year  is  over,  universal  suffrage  will 
be  granted.  It  is  a  bold  game,  gentlemen,  and  cards 
must  be  on  the  table.  Matters  have  gone  too  far 
for  secret  diplomacy,  for  they  are  based  upon  iron 
necessity.  Here,  in  these  historical  surroundings,  I 
prophesy  to  you  all,  that  perhaps  before  a  year  is 
over,  Herr  von  Bismarck  will  have  played  the  role  of 
Robert  Peel,  and  general  and  direct  representation 
will  be  granted." 

George  Brandes  in  his  magnificent  biography  of 
Lassalle,  adds  the  following :  "  As  is  well  known, 
Bismarck    fulfilled    the    prophecy    shortly   after   the 

94 


BRANDES  ON  LASSALLE 

war  with  Austria."  The  same  distinguished  author, 
speaking  of  the  two  last  years  of  Lassalle's  life,  says  : 
"  It  was  as  if  he  had  concentrated  the  activity  of  ten 
years  within  the  last  two.  One  was  astounded  at  all 
he  did  in  this  short  time."  Between  March  1862  and 
June  1864  he  was  the  author  of  no  less  than  twenty 
works,  of  which  three  or  four  have  the  dimensions 
and  contents  of  large  volumes,  and  the  rest  of  them, 
though  short  and  concise  in  form,  contain  enough 
scientific  matter  and  brilliancy  of  thought  to  make 
their  contents  equal  to  that  of  more  ambitious  works. 
In  the  meantime  he  was  holding  one  meeting  after 
another,  conferring  with  deputations  from  the  working 
classes,  wriggling  out  of  various  political  lawsuits, 
founding  the  German  Workmen's  Union,  carrying 
on  an  extensive  correspondence,  and  organising  the 
financial  department  of  the  Union.  It  seems  as  if, 
conscious  of  his  premature  death,  his  energies  had 
developed  beyond  ordinary  human  power. 

This  feverish  activity  was  the  keynote  of  his 
whole  personality.  In  his  work  Franz  von  Sickingcn, 
which  I  consider  an  autobiography  of  his  soul,  and 
to  which  I  shall  often  refer,  the  hero,  Ulrich  von 
Hutten,  testifies  to  the  necessity  of  letting  his  spirit 
find  voice  with  which  to  proclaim  the  wrongs  of  the 
people.  I  wish  to  draw  attention  to  this  feverish 
activity  alluded  to  by  Brandes,  to  show  what  pushed 
our  love  affair  into  the  background. 

Regarding  his  development  during  the  last  two 
years  as  "  agitator,"  Brandes  says :  "  As  agitator  he 
stepped  before  the  public.  The  very  word  seems  to 
have  been  coined  for  him,  for  agitator  in  the  wider 
sense  is  one  who  possesses  the  gift  of  inspiring  the 
masses  with  the  life  of  his  own  spirit,  which  at  the 
same  time  penetrates  and  directs  them.  The  art  of 
the  agitator  consists  in  electrifying  and  disciplining 
at  one  and  the  same  time,  and  for  this  purpose  both 
trained  will  and  spirit  are  necessary.  An  agitator 
must  stand  forth  as  orator,  author,  guerrilla-leader, 

95 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

and  commander-in-chief.  He  must  be  seen  here  and 
there,  and  work  simultaneously  in  various  places, 
keeping  everything  in  harness.  Lassalle's  peculiar 
talents  fitted  him  for  all  this.  What  was  the  requisite 
quality  needed  here  ?  Will — always  will — and  this 
was  the  keynote  of  his  life." 

Brandes  also  says :  "  The  real  peculiarity  of  the 
Lassalle  movement  consisted  in  the  combination  of 
two  elements — the  scientific  and  the  universal.  By 
the  latter  he  gained  and  swayed  the  populace,  and 
by  the  former  he  convinced  that  smaller  community 
which  consisted  of  the  elite  in  the  world  of  letters." 

I  have  made  these  long  quotations  out  of  Brandes' 
biography  in  order  that  Lassalle  may  not  be  viewed 
in  these  pages  merely  through  the  mirror  of  a  loving 
woman's  soul,  but  also  through  that  of  the  cultivated 
mind  of  an  eminent  man  of  letters. 


96 


CHAPTER  XVI 

To  return  to  my  story. 

Besides  my  friend  Mrs.  Arson,  two  pleasant 
American  families  were  in  Wabern.  We  passed 
some  weeks  living  for  our  health,  and  then  departed 
for  a  tour  to  Lucerne  and  the  Rigi.  At  that  time 
there  was  no  railroad  to  the  Rigi  Kulm.  We  were 
all  good  horsewomen,  and  so  were  quickly  on  the 
old  road  leading  to  Kaltbad. 

Before  we  got  there,  a  terrible  storm  broke  over 
us,  so  that  we  were  thankful  to  take  shelter  in  a 
disused  barn.  We  were  in  the  highest  spirits,  in 
spite  of  torrential  rain,  and  suddenly  the  thought 
flashed  across  me  that  Papa  HolthofF  had  written 
that  Ferdinand  intended  coming  to  Switzerland  for  a 
"  milk  cure."  Rigi  Kaltbad  is  a  "  milk  cure  "  place. 
A  small  urchin  stood  gaping  at  us  in  the  doorway. 
I  called  him  in  and  said, 

"Here,  youngster,  do  you  want  to  earn  some 
pence  ? " 

"Yes!" 

"  Then  run  and  ask  at  the  hotel  if  Herr  Lassalle 
is  here  for  a  cure." 

"  He  is  here,"  came  the  reply  in  guttural  tones. 

"  Then  go  and  fetch  him,"  I  said,  laughing,  in  the 
firm  conviction  that  the  child  had  not  understood 
me. 

The  boy  disappeared  and  I  turned  to  my  com- 
panions, who  did  not  understand  a  word  of  German, 
and  told  them  of  the  "  silly  joke " ;  they  were  all 

97  *  h 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

curious  to  know  what  the  boy  would  bring  with  him, 
perhaps  a  glass  of  water — perhaps 

"  By  all  the  gods  of  Greece  it  is  she ! "  rang  out 
a  voice  at  this  moment,  and  so  unexpectedly  that  it 
took  my  breath  away. 

Lassalle  stood  before  me  1 

"  Is  it  you  ?  Is  it  really  you  ? "  was  all  I  could 
say.  I  introduced  him  to  the  others  as  one  of  my 
Berlin  friends,  and  with  a  few  amiable  words  they 
exchanged  in  French,  he  immediately  won  their 
sympathy.  He  tried  to  persuade  them  to  dismount 
and  spend  the  evening  at  Kaltbad,  but  they  all 
wanted  to  go  to  the  Kulm  and  see  the  sunrise.  As 
soon  as  this  was  decided,  Lassalle  said  he  would 
accompany  us ;  he  only  wanted  to  lock  up  his  letters 
and  papers ;  his  wallet  was  always  ready.  "  Have 
you  any  idea  what  I  was  doing  when  the  boy  came 
and  told  me  a  beautiful  lady  wished  to  see  me  ? " 

Of  course  I  did  not  know,  but  I  was  no  little 
taken  aback  when  he  said,  "I  was  just  writing  to 
old  Boeckh  and  to  Holthoff  to  ask  for  letters  of 
introduction  to  your  father.  We  have  had  enough 
nonsense;  the  matter  must  now  be  brought  to  a 
conclusion." 

With  an  energetic  movement  of  the  head  he 
went  into  the  house,  and  returned  in  a  few  minutes, 
his  little  portmanteau  packed,  ready  to  join  us. 

During  the  short  time  he  was  absent,  my  friends 
took  the  opportunity  to  communicate  their  first 
impressions  to  me.  They  were  delighted  with  his 
manners.  "  Dieu,  qu'il  est  bien,"  my  friend  exclaimed, 
then  looking  at  me  intently  said  suddenly,  "  Are  you 
related  ?  You  are  so  wonderfully  alike  ? "  Lassalle, 
who  was  just  rejoining  us,  heard  the  last  words  and 
said,  "Do  you  know  that  several  people  have  said 
the  same  thing  ?  The  painter,  to  whom  I  gave  your 
photograph  to  copy  a  picture  from,  said,  during  his 
work,  that  the  anatomy  of  our  faces  was  exactly  the 
same. 

98 


PROPOSAL  OF  MARRIAGE 

"All  the  better,"  I  replied,  "then  I  shall  know 
for  certain  we  shall  always  like  each  other,  for  every 
one  finds  himself,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  more 
sympathetic,  if  not  more  beautiful,  than  other  people. 
But  now  let  us  start,  the  rain  has  stopped ;  perhaps 
we  shall  find  a  picturesque  sunset.    On  to  the  Kulm  ! " 

Later,  I  was  reminded  in  the  most  striking 
manner  of  this  resemblance.  This  was  in  1874  when 
I  was  acting  in  Breslau.  1  was  playing  in  one  of 
Moser's  little  comedies,  where,  disguised  as  a  boy,  I 
had  to  appear  in  masculine  garments  and  a  short  curly 
wig.  When  I  went  on  to  the  stage  I  heard  a 
murmur  run  through  the  house,  and  was  told  that 
many  friends  and  some  relations  of  Lassalle  were  at 
the  performance,  and  they  were  almost  terrified  at 
my  resemblance  to  Ferdinand  as  they  remembered 
him  in  his  thirteenth  or  fourteenth  year.  I  do  not 
know  if  this  likeness  of  feature  was  really  the  case, 
but  Lassalle  saw  it,  and  was  pleased  about  it. 

On  our  way  to  the  Kulm,  he  tried  to  persuade  me 
to  give  him  a  definite  answer,  and  also  to  accompany 
him  to  Chamonix  over  the  Gemmi.  I  would  do 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other. 

He  then  asked  me  quite  irritably,  "Why  won't 
you  marry  me  at  once  ?  Why  not,  instead  of  going 
to  Berne  to-morrow  from  Lucerne,  go  to  France  ? 
We  could  be  married  there  without  any  formalities, 
and  when  we  have  once  gone  off,  the  parents  will  have 
to  give  in.     It  is  difficult  to  combat  sl  fait  accompli." 

To  this  I  answered  that  I  would  never  consent 
to  such  a  romantic  elopement,  as  long  as  there  was  a 
grain  of  hope  of  managing  things  in  the  usual  way. 
He  tried  all  the  magic  of  his  eloquence  upon  me,  to 
win  me  over  to  his  ideas,  and  only  gave  in  at  last 
when  I  said,  "We  cannot  do  it  for  your  sake! 
Imagine  the  terrible  scandal  there  would  be  if  you — 
the  leader  of  a  Democratic,  or,  as  you  call  it, 
Socialistic,  party,  were  to  carry  off  the  daughter  of  a 
noble  house." 

99 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

He  replied  laughingly  that  he  did  not  care  in  the 
least  about  a  scandal ;  nevertheless  he  gave  up 
teasing.     In  this  way  we  reached  the  Kulm. 

When  we  parted  that  evening,  he  said,  "Child, 
we  must  come  to  some  definite  conclusion  and  plan 
of  action  this  time.  We  can  put  things  off  no 
longer.  You  see  once  more  in  our  meeting  to-day 
we  are  each  other's  destiny,  and  cannot  escape  it." 

Next  morning,  instead  of  a  glorious  sunrise,  there 
was  a  dense  fog,  and  we  all  wandered  about  like 
ghosts,  wrapped  up  in  blankets  and  anything  we  could 
find,  for  in  spite  of  a  drizzling  rain,  we  felt  sure  there 
would  be  an  imposing  sight  when  the  sun  at  last 
penetrated  the  dense  masses  of  drifting  clouds.  I 
had  passed  a  restless  night  battling  with  my  own 
indecision,  and  pale  and  worn  with  my  vigil,  I  stood 
next  to  Lassalle  watching  the  sunrise.  He  could 
hardly  find  words  to  express  his  admiration  of  me 
that  morning,  and  invoked  all  the  gods  of  old 
mythology  to  compare  me  with. 

When  a  few  hours  later  we  all  appeared  at 
breakfast,  Ferdinands  charm  of  manner  conquered 
not  only  myself,  but  also  my  English  and  American 
friends,  who  were  astonished  to  find  that  a  "red 
Socialist "  could  be  a  polished  man  of  the  world,  and 
not  as  they  imagined,  a  rough  creature  brandishing 
a  club.  He  chatted  about  all  sorts  of  things.  He 
told  us  of  his  Lucullus-like  feasts  in  Berlin,  and  was 
delighted  to  find  that  I  interested  myself  in  kitchen 
and  cellar. 

He  told  us  of  a  strange  experience  he  had  with 
some  friends  who  met  together  for  the  purpose  of 
trying  the  effects  of  hashish -smoking.  He  said, 
"We  all  lay  about  on  divans,  and  most  of  us  soon 
were  so  horribly  ill,  that  our  one  thought  was  to 
find  an  antidote  for  the  opiate.  So  we  tried  strong 
coffee  and  cognac  to  bring  us  back  to  our  normal 
condition." 

"  How  did  it  affect  you  ? "  I  asked  eagerly. 

100 


FUTURE  HOME 

"  It  is  a  strange  thing,"  he  said  ;  "  with  me  it 
increased  the  proportions  of  everything  to  monstrosity. 
Everything  round  me,  near  and  far,  seemed  infinite ; 
the  slightest  noise  sounded  like  the  blare  of  trumpets  ; 
and  when  one  of  the  party  cleared  his  throat,  it 
sounded  like  reverberating  thunder.  My  own  hands 
seemed  to  be  miles  away.  Altogether  the  experience 
was  most  extraordinary.  One  might  get  accustomed 
to  it,  but  I  found  that  one  trial  terrible.  Even  my 
thoughts  seemed  immeasurable, — too  great  for  any 
human  brain." 

"  Even  for  yours  ?  "  I  said  teasingly. 

He  laughed,  and  seemed  childishly  delighted  at 
my  praise. 

"  Yes  !  yes  ! "  he  said,  "  you  '  gold  fox,'  my  brain 
is  just  big  enough  for  my  thoughts." 

He  then  told  us  of  the  beautiful  house  he  was 
building  in  the  Tiergarten,  and  of  his  plans  for  a  big 
hall  which  was  to  be  painted  with  pictures  from  the 
"  Edda."  He  said,  "  You  can  imagine  who  is  to  be 
the  Brunhild.  My  painter  has  been  trying  to  copy 
the  features  from  a  beautiful  photograph  given  me 
by  Holthoff,  but  the  real  goddess  will  soon  be  able 
to  serve  as  his  model.     Is  this  not  so  ? " 

I  was  so  happy  I  could  not  answer.  Then  lunch 
ended. 

I  confided  my  love  affair  and  its  difficulties  to 
my  clever  English  friend  Mrs.  Arson,  but  she,  as 
well  as  the  Americans,  could  not  understand  my 
anxiety  concerning  my  parents,  nor  how  they  could 
allow  political  differences  of  opinion  to  weigh  in  the 
balance  against  their  daughter's  happiness. 

They  instilled  a  little  courage  in  me,  although  I 
understood  German  prejudices  better  than  they. 

Lassalle  did  his  very  best  to  make  me  give  him  a 
decided  answer,  but  I  still  hesitated ;  I  was  required 
to  act,  and  I  suffered  then  from  an  unaccountable 
weakness  of  will,  which  seems  to  me  now  incom- 
prehensible.    I  also  dreaded  the  inevitable  moment 

101 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

when  I  should  have  to  break  poor  Yanko's  heart  by 
telling  him  of  my  engagement  to  Lassalle.  I  likewise 
feared  my  father's  anger,  knowing  of  old  his  terrible 
outbursts  of  temper,  although  I  had  not  suffered  from 
any  of  these  lately,  on  account  of  the  marked  coolness 
in  our  intercourse  with  each  other. 

Lassalle  begged  me  to  go  with  him  into  the 
library,  which  at  that  hour  was  deserted.  How  well 
I  remember  the  scene  !  I  must  have  been  very  pale 
from  all  those  conflicting  emotions,  for  Lassalle 
jumped  up,  and  came  towards  me  saying,  "Good 
heavens !  How  dreadfully  ill  you  look !  I  cannot 
have  it !  Is  your  chest  weak  ?  No  !  Surely  this  is 
not  the  case  !  You  are  only  a  little  delicate,  and  this 
northern  climate  is  not  good  for  you  !  Well,  we 
shall  change  all  that.  If  my  poor  little  child  is  ill, 
I  will  give  up  politics  and  everything  else,  and  we 
will  go  and  live  in  Egypt — or  in  India.  I  shall  have 
my  books  and  scientific  studies,  and  will  nurse  my 
child  until  she  becomes  a  real  Brunhild." 

I  said  it  was  not  as  bad  as  all  that,  and  that  the 
doctors  said  it  was  merely  weakness  of  nerves ;  cold 
was  better  for  me  than  heat. 

"  Doctors  are  fools !  We  will  winter  in  Egypt, 
and  as  regards  this  'not  so  bad  as  all  that' — let  us 
understand  each  other  at  last !  Come,  child,  say  '  I 
will ' — and  everything  else  shall  be  my  affair." 

We  sat  on  a  low  divan ;  he  had  taken  my  hands, 
and  looked  me  earnestly  in  the  eyes.  I  shuddered, 
and  pulling  all  my  courage  together,  I  told  him  I 
was  unable  to  come  to  any  decision  as  long  as  I  was 
near  him ;  that  his  presence  lamed  my  will,  and  if  I 
were  to  promise  all  he  wished,  I  might  repent  it  later 
on,  and  find  the  carrying  out  of  it  all  beyond  my 
power.  "  For,"  I  added,  "  ask  anything  of  me  except 
firmness  of  will  and  energy.  Remember  that  I  am 
la  femme  la  plusfemme  de  Funivers,  that  is,  unreliable 
and  capricious." 

He  grew  quieter  and  said,  "  I  will  not  torment 

102 


A  QUESTION  OF  RELIGION 

the  sick  child.  Become  calmer,  and  make  up  your 
mind  after  we  have  parted ;  but  in  the  name  of  all 
the  gods  make  it  up  quickly  !  I  cannot  and  will  not 
bear  this  uncertainty  much  longer." 

I  promised  that  if  he  would  leave  me  in  Kaltbad, 
and  let  me  ride  alone  back  to  the  Rigi,  I  would 
decide  finally  on  the  way  and  give  him  an  answer  at 
once,  favourable  or  otherwise.  He  then  asked  me  in 
case  I  said  "  yes "  (and  he  was  sure  I  would) — if  I 
would  insist  on  his  becoming  a  Christian,  for  "  you 
know  I  am  a  Jew,"  he  added.  "  Shall  I  have  to 
change  my  religion  ? " 

"  No,  indeed  ! "  I  replied.  "  I  believe  too  little 
myself  to  give  the  question  of  religion  much  import- 
ance. Be  Mohammedan  if  you  like — or  heathen  for 
preference ;  as  it  is,  my  friends  call  me  a  Greek 
because  I  believe  in  so  many  things,  but  hardly  in 
God." 

He  laughed  heartily  and  said  he  was  glad  of  it,  as 
regarded  the  religion.  "  If  you  wished  it,  I  would 
become  Christian  at  once,  but  I  prefer  your  not 
wishing  it,  for  it  would  create  a  lot  of  bad  blood, 
and  make  me  look  small  in  the  eyes  of  a  great  many 
people ;  and  I  say  frankly  that  I  should  not  like  this 
at  all.  But  since  we  met  again  yesterday  in  this 
extraordinary  manner,  I  too  have  been  thinking  over 
things  during  a  wakeful  night,  and  I  know  now  how 
much  my  '  gold  fox  =  and  the  thought  of  winning  her 
have  taken  possession  of  my  heart,  and  how  I  would 
rather  give  up  everything,  yes — look  at  me — every- 
thing, than  lose  you  !  So  now  you  know  it,  and  can 
laugh  at  the  proud  man  who  has  bent  the  knee  before 
his  little  hard-hearted  regent.  But  here  is  another 
point.  I  hope  this  universality  in  religious  ideas 
does  not  also  apply  to  your  love  ?  And  you  don't 
prefer  here  many  to  one  ? " 

The  question  amused  me,  although  it  was  a 
tender  point  with  me,  and  I  replied  frankly,  "  Until 
now,  it  has  been  yes !     One  man  alone  has  never 

103 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

been  able  really  to  attract  me;  there  was  always 
something  I  did  not  care  for  in  each  one,  and  since 
my  first  love,  which  was  given  to  a  Russian  naval 
officer,  I  always  fancied  I  should  like  to  create  one 
man  out  of  two  or  three,  and  as  this  was  not  possible 
I  mostly  divided  my  favours." 

"  So !  so !  Well,  I  hope  now  that  one  will 
suffice,"  said  Lassalle,  highly  amused.  "  People  have 
told  me  all  sorts  of  tales  about  the  frivolity  and  the 
*  Greek  views '  of  my  'gold  fox,'  but  never  mind  !  I 
too  did  not  live  like  a  saint,  and  demand  no  more  of 
my  wife  than  I  give  her  myself.  But  henceforward 
I  must  insist  that  you  change  your  point  of  view." 

I  wanted  then  to  tell  him  all  about  my  past  life, 
and  my  "  crimes  against  saintly  morality,"  but  he 
interrupted  me  with  an  energetic  motion  of  the  hand. 

"  No,  no !  For  heaven's  sake  don't  let  us  have 
any  Pompeian  excavations  !  Let  us  leave  that  to  all 
those  who  care  more  for  the  past  and  present  than 
for  the  future.  Our  past  life  lies  behind  us.  Let  us 
finish  with  it  In  the  future  we  will  belong  to  each 
other,  and  cling  to  one  another.     That  is  enough  ! " 

Mrs.  Arson  came  in  to  tell  us  it  was  time  to  go, 
and  in  spite  of  Lassalles  entreaties  she  would  not 
postpone  our  departure.  He  begged  her  to  be  careful 
of  my  health — said  he  had  a  right  to  ask  this ;  that 
I  ought  not  in  my  delicate  state  to  be  riding  for 
hours  in  fog  and  damp,  and  brought  up  various 
arguments. 

But  I  urged  on  our  departure ;  I  longed  to  be 
alone,  in  order  to  think  things  out  quietly,  and 
become  clear  on  all  points. 

So  we  mounted  our  horses  in  the  icy  rain,  and  as 
Lassalle  was  going  with  us  to  Kaltbad,  we  had  one 
more  hour  together.  Although  the  conversation  was 
general,  he  looked  after  me  like  a  mother,  and  did  his 
best  to  protect  me  from  the  cold. 

He  chatted  about  literature  and  philosophy,  and 
he  said  gleefully,  "  The  child  is  such  a  little  silly  in 

104 


PROPOSAL  ACCEPTED 

so  many  things  ;  how  happy  I  shall  be  in  initiating 
her  in  the  treasures  of  philosophy  and  literature,  for 
she  knows  really  nothing  about  either." 

When  we  said  good-bye,  he  took  both  my  hands 
in  his,  kissed  them  passionately,  and  said,  "  We  part 
but  for  a  short  time,  my  best-beloved.  You  are  as 
sweet  as  a  child,  but  as  weak  as  one.  Oh,  if  I  could 
only  instil  one  drop  of  my  mighty  will  and  energy 
into  those  blue  veins  of  yours.  Perhaps  I  might 
succeed  in  doing  so  by  magnetic  force.  Here !  take 
my  hands."  I  obeyed.  "  So  !  I  will  that  you  shall 
have  more  will !  Say  yes,  et  je  me  charge  du  reste  I  " 
I  promised  him  I  would  decide  before  I  got  to 
Waggis,  and  then  we  parted.  My  friends,  knowing 
I  must  have  so  much  to  think  over,  let  me  ride  on 
alone  ;  and  after  turning  the  matter  over  from  all 
sides  in  my  heart  and  brain,  I  at  length  decided  to 
say  "yes." 

When  we  were  on  the  boat  returning  from 
Waggis  to  Lucerne,  I  told  my  friends  of  my  decision, 
and  they  were  overjoyed,  as  Lassalle  had  quite  won 
their  hearts.  They  said  he  deserved  it.  I  already 
held  two  messages  in  my  hand  from  him,  a  telegram 
and  a  note,  the  latter  delivered  to  me  by  a  little  boy 
whom  he  had  sent  post-haste  on  foot  to  Waggis.  In 
both  of  them  he  implored  me  not  to  cross  the  lake  in 
this  foggy  weather,  but  to  wait  at  Waggis  for  him  to 
take  me  home  safely. 

I  had  replied  that  this  was  impossible,  and  we 
returned  to  Wabern. 


105 


CHAPTER   XVII 

After  a  lapse  of  so  many  years,  a  letter  I  wrote  to 
Holthoff  will  serve  best  to  illustrate  my  frame  of 
mind.  I  wrote  to  him  the  first  morning  after  our 
return. 

Wabern,  July  28,  1864. 

Where  can  I  begin  and  where  end  with  all  I  have  to  tell  you 
to-day  ?  Perhaps,  when  this  letter  is  delivered  into  your  hands, 
you  will  be  sitting  comfortably  in  your  room,  little  dreaming 
that  your  child  is  going  to  fill  you  with  worry  and  anxiety. 

The  moment  has  come  when  your  child  implores  your  help, 
and  there  is  no  one  who  can  help  but  you.  I  am  so  worried 
and  anxious,  that  I  know  I  am  writing  incoherently.  Oh,  if  you 
were  only  here  that  I  might  take  both  your  hands  in  mine, 
look  up  to  you  with  imploring  eyes,  and  beg  in  my  tenderest 
voice,  "  Papa  help,  do  help  your  poor  little  daughter,  for  she  needs 
all  your  assistance  and  protection.'"  Then  Tm  sure  you  would 
help,  for  you  would  realise  that  it  is  only  possible  for  us  to  go 
forwards,  not  backwards.  I  come  to  you  to-day  as  to  a  father 
who  loves  and  spoils  his  little  daughter,  as  to  a  friend  who  has 
promised  to  aid  his  little  friend,  as  to  a  great  lawyer  who  must 
help  his  client  in  word  and  deed.  Have  you  any  idea  now,  Papa, 
whom  I  am  writing  about  ?  Yes,  yes,  you  are  quite  right !  He 
has  given  you  and  me,  especially  me,  many  an  anxious  moment ; 
but  the  matter  now  is  deadly  earnest,  and  I  must  tell  you  every 
thing  as  it  happened,  else  you  will  think  me  quite  mad. 

Well,  then,  the  great  romance  of  my  life  is  about  to 
culminate  in  my  marriage,  as  soon  as  possible,  with  Lassalle.  I 
know  what  serious  consequences  this  decision  will  entail,  but 
nevertheless  it  must  be  so,  for  I  know  it  is  the  will  of  God, 
that  it  has  all  been  predestined,  and  no  man  can  escape  fate. 
There  are  still  many  obstacles.  I  shall  be  able  to  overcome 
them  all;  but  one  thing  is  too  terrible — it  robs  me  of  my 
courage  and  makes  me  wretched.  It  is  this — that  I  must  break 
my  poor  friend  Yanko's  heart,  destroy  his  youthful  dreams,  and 

106 


LETTER  TO  HOLTHOFF 

all  his  happiness.  Now  that  I  feel  my  future  and  my  destiny 
are  in  Lassalle's  hands,  I  can  only  pray  God  to  give  me  strength 
to  overcome  my  own  heart  and  become  wicked. 

How  can  I  even  ask  you  to  befriend  Yanko  in  this  terrible 
time  ?     He  has  no  one  but  me  to  protect  and  love  him. 

Oh,  how  he  will  despise  me,  and  from  his  point  of  view,  I 
must  appear  despicable,  for  he  could  never  understand  the 
demoniacal  power  that  Ferdinand  has  over  me.  You  under- 
stand that,  and  will  agree  with  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  care 
for  Yanko  too  much  to  marry  him  with  that  feeling  for  Lassalle 
in  my  heart.  It  would  have  caused  me  to  desert  him  sooner  or 
later.  Better  now  than  later,  for  at  least  he  will  not  be  made 
ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  He  will  be  unhappy,  but 
not  dishonoured.  Lassalle  swore  to  me,  and  you  know  how 
strong  his  will  is,  "  You  shall  be  mine,  either  now  as  an  angel, 
or  later  on  as  a  devil."  I  feel  that  he  is  right,  and  know  that 
God  intended  us  for  each  other.  Therefore,  I  have  decided, 
and  he  knew  my  decision  early  this  morning. 

Since  last  night,  I  have  received  four  telegrams  from  my 
Satanic  lord  and  master,  and  he  is  coming  to  this  little  place 
to-morrow  evening,  where  I  am  staying  with  a  dear  friend  who 
is  of  the  same  opinion  as  he  is,  that  I  must  accept  my  .fate  from 
God's  hands.  You  are  my  witness  that  I  have  aone  my  best  to 
fight  against  my  own  heart,  and  still  more  against  my  mind, 
for  I  would  gladly  have  acted  as  my  parents  wished ;  but  in 
spite  of  all,  I  grew  more  and  more  interested  in  him.  Now  let 
me  tell  you  how  it  all  happened.  You  know  that  I  am  here 
for  my  health,  and  accident — or  rather  Providence — has  willed 
that  my  friend  must  come  to  this  little  place,  not  far  from 
Berne,  for  the  health  of  her  delicate  children.  A  nice 
American  family  lives  near  us  too. 

After  a  few  days  we  began  to  feel  bored,  and  decided  to 
take  a  trip  to  Lucerne  and  the  Rigi.  You  remember,  Papa 
dear,  telling  me  that  Lassalle  was  going  to  do  a  cure  somewhere 
there  ?  Our  Murray  told  us  that  a  milk  cure  can  only  be  done 
on  the  Rigi-Scheideck.  I  told  my  friends  I  had  an  acquaint- 
ance there,  and  would  like  to  meet  him,  and  as  I  like  to  be 
straightforward,  told  them  the  whole  story.  We  heard  at 
Waggis  that  we  could  not  ride  to  the  Scheideck,  as  it  was  too 
far,  and  the  roads  were  bad.  You  can  imagine  how  dis- 
appointed I  was.  I  arrived  at  Kaltbad  in  a  melancholy  frame 
of  mind,  and  as  you  know,  found  him  there.  Could  I  ever 
describe  our  delight  ?  We  all  went  up  the  Rigi  together,  and 
the  others  declared  he  seemed  walking  on  air,  and  devoured  me 
with  his  eyes  to  such  an  extent  that  they  wonder  there  was 

107 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

anything  left  of  me.  We  discussed  all  kinds  of  things,  and  he 
implored  me  to  say  "  yes."  But  I  was  firm  as  long  as  I  was 
with  him.  When  I  hesitated  he  held  my  hands,  and  tried  to 
infuse  his  will-power  into  me,  saying  I  was  as  sweet  as  a  child 
and  as  weak  as  one.  He  may  have  been  successful,  for  at  that 
moment,  as  if  his  wish  were  being  fulfilled,  I  said,  "  Before  I 
leave  Waggis  I  shall  have  decided."  He  left  us  in  Kaltbad 
with  an  au  revoir.  I  shall  never  forget  that  return  journey, 
how  I  fought  with  myself  and  suffered  !  The  moment  I  arrived 
here  I  received  a  letter  from  him  entreating  me  not  to  cross  the 
lake  in  such  bad  weather — he  was  so  anxious  about  my  health. 
Then  I  knew  where  my  fate  lay.  If  you  had  only  seen  his 
tenderness  and  care  of  me  during  those  two  days,  you  would 
hardly  have  recognised  your  egotistical  friend  ! 

Friday,  July  29. 

Yesterday  my  letter  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  one 
from  my  stormy  friend,  which  gave  me  so  much  to  consider 
that  I  could  not  finish  this  one.  Heaven  alone  knows  how  all 
this  is  going  to  end  ! 

I  shall  wait  to  finish  this  letter  until  I  have  seen  him,  as  no 
doubt  there  will  be  a  good  deal  more  to  tell  you ;  I  expect  him 
either  to-night  or  to-morrow. 

Now  to  continue. 

When  I  arrived  in  Wabern  on  Tuesday  evening,  I  wrote  him 
my  decision  and  conditions.  They  were  as  follows:  Firstly, 
that  we  should  do  everything  possible  to  conciliate  my  parents, 
in  order  to  gain  their  consent  for  the  sake  of  appearances. 
Should  this  fail,  in  spite  of  our  efforts,  eh  bien!  alms,  tant  pis 
pour  euv !  In  this  case,  his  plan  is  to  elope  with  me  to  Egypt 
— a  plan  he  says  you  know  and  approve  of. 

My  second  condition  is,  that  now  we  have  decided 
matters,  everything  is  to  be  carried-  out  as  quickly  as  possible. 
This  for  two  reasons.  Firstly,  because  of  Yanko  (Lassalle 
knows  nothing  of  this).  Secondly,  because  I  do  not  wish  the 
world  to  gossip  about  matters  which  do  not  concern  it,  and  of 
which  it  would  only  take  a  one-sided  view.  This  would  lead 
to  all  sorts  of  terrible  scenes,  which,  in  the  present  state  of  my 
weakened  health  and  nerves,  I  really  could  not  stand. 

Will  he  accept  these  conditions  ?  Heaven  knows !  In 
reply  to  my  letter  he  merely  telegraphed  yesterday  :  "  Letter 
received.  Bravissimo  !  Arrive  29th,  latest  30th."  He  wants 
to  accompany  me  to  Geneva,  but  he  must  on  no  account  do 
this.  It  will  be  difficult  to  prevent  the  demon  having  his  own 
way,  but  I  trust  my  will  in  this  case  will  prevail  over  his. 

The  Countess  is  in  Wildbad,  and  he  wants  me  to  know  her. 

108 


LETTER  TO  HOLTHOFF 

I  believe  he  will  ask  her  to  come  here  (Tun  jour  ou  aV  autre.  Oh, 
dear  Papa !  if  you  were  only  here !  I  feel  so  lonely, — every- 
thing is  against  me,  yet  I  must  struggle  on. 

My  people  know  nothing — not  even  that  I  met  Lassalle  on 
the  Rigi. 

I  think  the  best  thing  will  be  to  spring  it  on  them,  make 
the  whole  affair  a  coup  oVe'tat.  Oh !  if  you  only  knew  how 
difficult  it  is  to  act  against  the  wishes  of  my  family,  and  those 
whom  I  love  and  honour ! 

Just  look  at  the  extraordinary  sequence  of  events.  Why 
did  the  doctor  order  me  a  change  of  air  just  then  ?  Why  did 
it  so  happen  that  my  parents  could  not  accompany  me,  and 
that  I  had  to  go  with  a  friend  ?  Why  did  that  friend  suggest 
a  tour  on  the  Rigi,  instead  of  the  Bernese  highlands  ?  Why 
was  Lassalle  on  the  Kaltbad  instead  of  the  Scheideck,  and  why 
did  we  choose  the  most  difficult  route,  instead  of  taking  the 
one  over  Kussnacht  or  Gersau ;  also  why  should  Lassalle,  who 
is  hardly  ever  at  home,  be  occupied  just  at  that  moment  in 
writing  to  you  ?     E?ifin,  you  see,  Papa,  it  had  to  be  ! 

God  knows  what  our  arrival  at  home  will  lead  to,  or  what 
he  and  I  had  best  do  to  attain  our  object.  If  only  you  were 
here  to  help  with  your  advice  and  friendship,  which  knows  no 
yesterday  nor  to-morrow !  As  it  is,  I  stand  quite  alone  in  his 
demoniacal  power.  There  is  no  looking  back  now.  I  must  go 
forward,  even  should  the  way  lie  over  torn  and  bleeding  hearts. 
Tell  me,  what  is  the  worst  they  can  do  to  us  ?  I  am  twenty- 
one,  therefore  of  age,  I  believe,  according  to  Bavarian  law. 
Beyond  this  I  know  nothing,  nor  what  could  happen  to  us  in 
case  of  elopement,  or  who  would  be  on  our  side  besides  the  Griifin. 

Now  I  must  end  for  to-day,  as  before  he  arrives  I  have  to 
write  the  awful  letter  to  my  poor  dear  Yanko. 

God  is  my  witness  that  I  would  far  rather  receive  than  be 
obliged  to  write  such  a  letter,  knowing  the  suffering  it  will  entail. 

Good-bye.  Answer  me  soon,  if  only  to  tell  me  you  love  the 
child  who  loves  you  so  dearly.  Let  me  know  if  you  are  able  to 
come  here,  and  believe,  under  all  circumstances,  in  the  eternal 
friendship  and  gratitude  of 

Your  Loving  Little  Daughter. 

1.30,  just  received  another  telegram  from  Tourbillon !  He 
will  be  here  at  six  to-day  ! 

It  was  so  difficult  to  write  to  Yanko,  that  it  took 
me  nearly  all  night.  The  letter  was  a  mixture  of 
the  grossest  selfishness  and  the  most  sincere  regret. 
I  told  him  I  was  fully  aware  of  the  shameful  way  he 

109 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

was  being  treated,  but  appealed  to  him  as  to  my 
confidant  in  the  Lassalle  affair.  He  knew  that,  as  I 
had  told  him,  Lassalle's  influence  was  such  that,  if 
I  met  him  again,  and  he  wished  me  to  be  his  wife,  I 
would  leave  everything  in  the  world  and  follow  him. 
I  quoted  the  following  beautiful  lines  from  Geibel's 
"  Brunhild  "  :— 

"  Wenn  iiber  ihn  der  Blitz  herniederzundet, 
Schiltst  du  den  Scheiterhaufen,  dass  er  brennt  ? 
So  aber  kam's  auf  mich  mit  Allgewalt, 
Als  Siegfried  nahte.     All  mein  Wesen 
Schlug  in  Flammen  jauchzend  auf! 
Und  hatte  Hela  selbst,  der  Nacht  entsteigend, 
All  ihre  Schrecken  zwischen  uns  gestiirmt, 
Ich  hatt'  ihn  doch  geliebt !  " 

The  remainder  of  the  letter  was  written,  as  most 
of  our  correspondence  was,  in  French.  I  told  him 
how,  in  spite  of  the  suffering  I  was  inflicting  on  him, 
I  looked  on  him  as  my  truest  friend,  and  if,  as  we 
feared,  my  parents  remained  inexorable,  I  counted 
on  his  help  and  protection,  as  that  of  the  person 
nearest  on  earth  to  me. 

As  I  wrote,  I  knew  I  was  right,  and  that  the  dear 
noble  fellow  would  always  keep  the  promise  he  made 
to  my  grandmother  on  her  death-bed. 

Day  was  dawning  when  I  finished  this  most 
difficult  letter.     Then  only  I  wrote  to  Lassalle  : 

Shall  I  begin  by  thanking  you  for  your  dear  lines,  which 
reached  me  just  as  I  was  crossing  the  bridge  of  boats ;  or  by 
telling  you  how  long  and  how  difficult  the  way  to  Waggis 
appeared  ?  No  !  You  know  both.  You  know  how  delighted 
I  was  at  your  few  words  of  remembrance,  but  my  heart  beat 
quicker  as  I  read  of  your  tender  care  of  me  and  my  health. 
That  I  could  not  do  as  you  wished  was  because,  as  you  too 
say,  my  will  is  as  weak  as  a  child's. 

Then  followed  all  I  had  written  to  Holthoff  con- 
cerning my  decision  and  conditions. 

Of  course,  he  must  have  known  beforehand  what 
my  answer  would  be  ;  I  received  one  or  two  telegrams 
from  him  hourly;  he  comfortably  took  up  his  post 

110 


LASSALLES  LETTERS 

in  the  telegraph  office  of  the  hotel  Kaltbad.  As  he 
wrote  to  me,  it  amused  him  to  listen  to  the  tick-tick 
of  the  machine,  and  to  fancy  he  was  touching  me 
with  it.  This  fancy,  arising  perhaps  from  the  know- 
ledge that  his  words  and  thoughts  would  reach  me 
in  a  few  minutes.  1  received  six  letters  in  those 
two  days  besides  the  telegrams.     What  letters  ! 

They,  as  well  as  everything  Lassalle  had  ever  given 
me,  were  afterwards  taken  away  by  my  father. 

His  political  and  legal  works  have  made  people 
familiar  with  his  flowery  and  poetic  style  of  writing. 
Imagine,  then,  what  his  love  letters  must  have  been 
to  the  woman  who  held  his  whole  heart ! 

The  only  book  written  on  our  tragic  story  which 
I  find  sympathetic  was  one  by  an  anonymous  author 
entitled;  The  Sufferings  of  Lassalle.  It  spoke,  of 
his  love  in  the  following  terms :  "  When  a  truly 
demoniacal  love  clutches  at  the  fibres  of  a  human 
being,  then  there  exists  for  him  neither  God  nor 
politics,  neither  fatherland  nor  family  ties,  nor  law. 
The  following  pages  will  testify  to  such  a  love 
which  was  beyond  the  power  of  any  poet  to  describe." 

How  often  in  after-life  I  have  regretted  the  loss 
of  these  letters ;  I  could  never  have  felt  so  utterly 
wretched  and  deserted  if  I  had  been  allowed  to  keep 
them,  for  the  love  they  breathed  would  have  spoken 
to  me  from  beyond  the  grave. 

All  were  taken  away  from  me.  Many  of  them 
are  imprinted  in  my  memory  as  clearly  as  if  I  had 
read  them  yesterday.  In  one  of  them  he  described 
a  sunset,  which  he  saw  the  evening  after  my  de- 
parture. Its  flaming  glories  seemed  to  glow  like  the 
illumination  of  our  love  ;  the  whole  universe  and  all 
the  beauties  of  nature  seemed  woven  by  him  into 
the  leading  chords  of  the  motif  of  our  happiness. 

Another  time  he  wrote  : 

Art  thou  ambitious?  What  would  my  "golden  child " 
say,  if  I  led  her  in  triumph  to  Berlin  in  a  car  drawn  by  six 
white  horses,  as  the  greatest  lady  in  the  land  ? 

Ill 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

And  again : 

« 

It  really  is  most  foolish  to  worry  about  politics,  and  the 
weal  and  woe  of  other  people.  That  was  all  very  well  when  I 
was  alone,  and  had  nothing  better  to  do,  but  now  !  Shall  I 
throw  it  all  up,  and  shall  we  go  far,  far  away  wherever  my 
ruler,  the  child,  wishes,  and  live  only  for  our  happiness,  our 
studies,  and  a  few  friends  ? 


112 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

He  wasr  here  at  last,  my  beloved,  my  hero — my  eagle, 
as  I  loved  to  call  him,  on  account  of  his  bright  eagle- 
like eyes !  On  his  arrival,  I  was  clasped  in  his  arms 
as  if  nothing  could  ever  part  us.  We  kissed  each 
other  again  and  again,  gazing  rapturously  into  each 
other's  eyes.  In  the  whole  world,  there  were  no 
two  people  so  completely  happy  as  we  were.  For, 
in  our  case,  everything  was  in  harmony,  heart,  mind, 
and  soul.  The  more  I  saw  of  him,  the  more  I  was 
convinced  that  this  man,  with  his  great  mind  and 
charming  disposition,  would  conquer  my  parents,  and 
take  their  hearts  by  storm. 

In  the  happy  days  that  followed  we  were  the 
gayest  of  the  gay.  When  his  high  spirits  ran  away 
with  him,  he  was  delighted  when  I  called  out,  as  I 
did  to  my  big  dog  at  home :  Couche-toi !  In  this 
he  reminded  me  very  much  of  my  father.  We 
roamed  the  forests  together,  rejoicing  in  every  tree 
and  flower,  and  breaking  into  exclamations  of  delight 
every  time  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  mountains 
through  the  opening  in  the  trees. 

In  fact  we  revelled  in  every  moment  of  these 
incomparably  beautiful  days.  He  was  delighted  at 
my  sense  of  humour,  which  he  also  shared.  He  read 
me  portions  of  one  of  his  pamphlets,  Herr  Julian 
Schmidt,  which  amused  me  very  much,  and  I 
laughed  continually  over  the  witty  and  sometimes 
spiteful  remarks.  "Just  imagine,"  he  said,  "what 
happened  to  me  in  connection  with  it.     This  brochure 

113  I 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

was  published  two  years  ago ;  last  year  I  went  to  a 
little  place  in  Switzerland,  and  met  in  the  garden  of 
the  hotel  a  perfectly  charming  couple,  with  whom, 
almost  immediately,  I  had  a  most  animated  con- 
versation. We  got  on  so  well  that  we  arranged  to 
go  for  a  long  walk  together  before  dinner,  and  pro- 
posed also  a  drive  on  the  morrow.  When  we  got 
back  to  the  hotel,  we  found  we  had  forgotten  to 
introduce  ourselves  to  each  other.  I  looked  in  the 
visitors'  book,  and  there,  what  did  I  see  but  '  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Julian  Schmidt,  Berlin.'  I  need  hardly  tell 
you  how  quickly  I  disappeared." 

"  But  hadn't  you  ever  seen  him  in  Berlin  ? " 

"No,  strange  to  say,  I  had  not.  I  wonder  how 
the  poor  Schmidts  felt  when  they  read  my  name  in 
the  list?" 

When  we  had  done  laughing  about  this,  Ferdinand 
said,  "  Here  is  another  brochure  of  mine  that  will 
amuse  you — my  answer  to  the  accusation  people 
brought  against  me  that  I  wished  to  place  might 
before  right.  The  title  is  ■  Might  and  Right:  "  He 
had  brought  it  with  him  in  his  portmanteau,  and  read 
as  follows : — 

"  If  I  had  created  the  world,  it  is  very  possible 
that,  out  of  deference  to  the  Volkszeitung  and  Count 
Schwerin,  I  might  have  made  an  exception  for  once 
and  put  *  Right '  before  '  Might,'  because,  strange  to 
say,  this  corresponds  with  my  own  wishes  and  ethics  ! 
Unfortunately  I  never  had  the  chance  of  creating  the 
world,  and  must  therefore  decline  all  responsibility 
and  both  blame  and  praise  in  regard  to  it." 

I  was  much  interested  in  all  the  proofs  he  brought 
forward  that  in  this  world  Might  rules  Right,  and 
often  thought  of  this  when,  a  few  weeks  later,  I 
suffered  so  bitterly  under  the  power  of  might. 

Some  of  the  most  charming  hours  we  spent  were 
devoted  to  poetry.  Lassalle,  like  myself,  knew  most 
of  the  classic  writers  by  heart,  and  we  revelled  in 
declaiming  them  to   each   other.      It  delighted   me 

114 


COUNTESS  HATZFELD 

most  to  hear  him  recite  his  "Franz  von  Sickingen." 
He  confessed  that  in  Ulrich  von  Hiitten  he  had 
drawn  his  own  portrait  and  expressed  his  own 
thoughts. 

This,  of  course,  interested  me  doubly,  as  I  learnt 
to  know  him,  as  it  were,  from  the  biography  written 
by  himself.  Later  on,  how  well  I  treasured  many 
of  the  prophetic  passages. 

The  following  lines  were  soon  verified  : — 

"  A  demon  follows  in  my  steps, 
To  turn  the  heart  of  joy  to  misery." 

Just  now  our  path  was  strewn  with  happiness, 
and  we  were  thankful  to  the  gods  for  it. 

During  these  wonderful  days  we  discussed 
amongst  other  things  his  sources  of  income,  and  I 
was  delivered  from  a  nightmare  on  hearing  he  was 
in  no  way  dependent  on  the  Countess.  He  said  in 
conclusion,  "Never  come  to  me  with  a  proposition 
to  earn  money  by  writing.  Mostly  women  look 
upon  this  as  a  way  out  of  perplexity,  and  so  many 
of  them  have  said  to  me, '  Why  don't  you  write  more, 
and  make  money  ? '  but  I  hate  the  prostitution  of  the 
pen,  and  would  never  demean  myself  by  it.  I  con- 
sider it*  more  despicable  and  more  degrading  for  a 
man  than  the  prostitution  of  the  body,  for  my  mind 
is  more  sacred  to  me  than  that  which  envelops  it. 
Therefore,  mark  well,  nothing  will  come  of  that — 
no  authorship,  above  all  no  journalism." 

The  same  day  he  spoke  again  about  his  liaison 
with  Countess  Hatzfeld.  As  regards  the  latter,  my 
feelings  towards  her  were  mixed  with  a  little  fear, 
a  little  jealousy,  but  most  of  all  childish  affection. 

Whilst  speaking  of  her,  Lassalle  showed  himself 
to  me  in  quite  a  new  light,  and  one  that  increased 
my  respect  for  him.  He  asked  me  what  my  opinion 
was  in  regard  to  his  connection  with  the  Countess, 
to  which  I  replied  that  I  supposed  she  had  been  his 
mistress  when  he  was  quite  young,  and  now  that  she 
was  old,  but,  as  my  friend  had  told  me,  extremely 

115 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

clever,  no  doubt  his  former  love  had  been  turned  into 
a  great  enduring  friendship. 

My  answer  pleased  him,  and  he  said,  "  Then  you 
do  not  insist  on  my  giving  up  the  Countess  ? " 

"  Give  her  up  ?  How  could  I  think  of  such  a  thing  ? 
I  shall  be  delighted  to  make  her  acquaintance,  but 
would  she  have  to  live  with  us,  always  ? "  I  added, 
anxiously. 

This  question  amused  him  immensely.  In  the 
highest  spirits  he  caught  me  in  his  arms,  and  repeated 
my  question  again  and  again  with  laughter  and  kisses, 
assuring  me, 

"  No,  my  gold  fox,  she  would  not !  Anyhow,  she 
never  lives  with  me.  Come  under  this  glorious  lime- 
tree,  and  listen  to  what  I  have  to  tell  you.  Jealousy 
of  the  good  Countess  (I  wondered  if  any  man  who 
had  once  adored  me  would  ever  speak  of  me  as  "  Good 
Helene  " — horrible  !)  is  quite  out  of  the  question.  For 
many  years  she  has  been  my  confidante  in  all  my 
little  love  affairs,  which,  as  you  know,  I  have  looked 
upon  as  an  antidote  to  my  serious  work." 

I  nodded,  for  I  knew  his  reputation.  He  said, 
laughing,  "  I  wrote  to  my  sister  the  other  day 
saying  that  I  consider  the  greatest  relaxation  from 
work  is  to  be  amongst  pretty  women.  The  Countess 
knows  this  too — and  now  my  one  beautiful  wife  will 
have  to  replace  all  that  to  me.  Seriously,  do  you  not 
realise  that  the  hold  the  Countess  has  over  me  is  of 
quite  a  different  nature  ? " 

He  stretched  out  his  well-formed  hand,  and  con- 
tinued, "Into  this  hand,  which  was  then  that  of  a 
boy,  she  placed  her  destiny.  I  proved  to  her  that  the 
hand  was  that  of  a  man,  but  at  that  time  she  did  not 
know  it.  She  gave  me  her  full  confidence,  and  that 
binds  me  to  her  for  ever." 

This  noble  point  of  view  filled  me  with  enthusiasm. 
What  he  then  told  me  concerning  his  relations  with 
the  Countess  is  more  fully  described  in  a  most  extra- 
ordinary letter  to  which  I  will  make  reference  later. 

116 


COUNTESS  HATZFELD 

The  letter  is  one  printed  among  the  first  of  the 
Intimate  Letters  and  the  portion  of  it  referring  to 
the  Countess  is  as  follows  : — 

She  is  identical  with  my  own  soul.  What  is  soul  ?  It  is  the 
unity  of  the  collective  whole,  the  central  point  of  the  entire 
mass  of  impressions  we  ever  experience.  That  is  what  she  is 
to  me.  Therefore,  she  is  a  necessity  to  my  happiness.  Further, 
she  is  the  person  on  whom  depends  the  integrity  of  my 
individuality.  If  I  lost  a  leg  or  an  arm,  I  should  not  consider 
myself  so  maimed  as  if  I  had  lost  the  Countess.  Therefore,  it 
follows  that  she  must  be  dearer  to  me  than  myself,  and  that  I 
must  display  more  tenderness  towards  her  than  to  the  remaining 
portion  of  my  individuality,  and  I  can  say  of  her  what 
Wallenstein  said  of  Max :  "  She  stands  before  me  like  my  own 
youth,  that  stormy  youth  to  which  my  thoughts  often  revert 
sentimentally.  She  is  the  living  incorporation  of  that  youth 
to  me — a  time  most  people  look  back  upon  with  tender 
recollections.  Doubtless  as  long  as  she  is  in  my  life,  I  shall  feel 
more  or  less  young ;  if  I  ever  lost  her,  I  should  feel  as  though 
I  had  changed  my  personality.  If  she  had  suffered,  and  still 
suffers,  is  it  not  because  I  have  impregnated  her  with  my  ideas, 
my  feelings,  and  my  points  of  view,  and  because  she  has  framed 
her  life  accordingly  ?  To  me,  therefore,  she  represents  my  own 
ideas  and  my  own  feelings.  Is  it  not  natural  that  I  should  treat 
this,  my  second  self,  with  more  consideration  than  my  own  self  ?  " 

Of  course  Ferdinand  was  delighted  to  find  my 
opinion  on  his  relationship  with  the  Countess  so 
different  from  that  of  all  the  other  women  with 
whom  he  had  had  love  affairs,  and  especially  that 
of  the  lady  to  whom  he  wrote  the  letter.  All  this 
was  another  proof  to  me  of  the  greatness  and  nobility 
of  his  soul,  and  my  adoration  for  him  grew  boundless. 

In  spite  of  my  youth,  he  must  have  placed  me 
on  a  pinnacle,  to  consider  me  capable  of  understanding 
so  entirely  his  ideas. 

In  consequence  of  this  conversation,  I  wrote  a 
letter  to  the  Countess,  full  of  childlike  admiration 
and  enthusiasm.     To  this  I  received  no  answer. 

He  painted  our  future  together  in  the  most 
glowing  colours,  and  asked  if  I  would  be  satisfied 
with  the  life  he  could  offer  me.     On  my  replying, 

117 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

"  Completely,"  he  was  pleased,  and  said,  "  I  want  you 
to  love  me  as  I  really  am,  but  are  you  not  at  all 
ambitious  ? " 

"My  ambition  is  to  be  the  wife  of  Ferdinand 
Lassalle  and  to  share  his  fate." 

He  laughed,  rubbed  his  hands,  and  said,  "Your 
choice  is  not  a  bad  one,  and  you  will  never  be  the 
worse  for  it.  One  day  Ferdinand  Lassalle's  wife  will 
be  a  woman  in  the  highest  position.  Let  us  discuss 
it  quietly.  Have  you  any  idea  of  my  plans  and 
projects  ?  No !  Then  look  at  me  (raising  himself 
up).  Do  I  look  as  if  I  would  be  satisfied  with  any 
secondary  place  in  the  kingdom  ?  Do  you  believe 
that  I  would  sacrifice  the  sleep  of  my  nights,  the 
marrow  of  my  bones,  the  power  of  my  lungs,  in  order 
to  pull  the  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire  for  some  one  else  ? 
Do  I  look  like  a  political  martyr  ?  No  1  I  will 
act  and  fight,  but  I  will  also  enjoy  the  fruits  of  the 
combat,  and  will  place  on  your  brow  that  which, 
for  the  present,  we  will  call  your  diadem. 

"  Believe  me,  it  would  be  a  proud  moment  to  be 
acclaimed  *  President  '  of  a  Republic,  chosen  by  the 
people.  To  rest  secure  on  the  goodwill  of  a  nation, 
more  securely  than  to  be  '  King,  by  the  Grace  of  God,' 
and  to  sit  upon  a  rotten  worm-eaten  throne.  Come 
here  !  Stand  by  my  side,  and  behold  both  of  us 
in  the  glass  !  Is  it  not  a  proud  and  regal  couple  ? 
Did  not  nature  create  two  such  beings  in  her  happiest 
mood,  and  don't  you  think  that  power,  the  highest 
power,  would  suit  us  very  well  ?  Yes,  child,  you 
will  be  glad  of  your  choice.  Long  live  the  Republic, 
and  the  golden-haired  wife  of  the  President ! " 

He  had  talked  himself  into  a  perfect  fever,  and 
I  felt  myself  carried  along  on  the  stream  of  his 
enthusiasm.  My  eyes  were  lifted  in  faith  and  admira- 
tion towards  him,  and  when  he  saw  this  he  continued, 
"  You  do  believe  in  our  star,  do  you  not  ?  Since 
I  found  you,  my  way  to  glory  seems  clearer  than 
ever  ;  united  to  you,  I  cannot  fail  to  reach  the  goal. 

118 


LASSALLE'S  WELCOME  ON  THE  RHINE 

So,  all  hail  to  us  and  to  our  friends !  Of  course  we 
have  enemies  as  numerous  as  the  sands  upon  the  sea- 
shore. In  my  case  it  is  natural,  and  in  yours  com- 
prehensible ;  but  no  matter  how  much  they  bespatter 
the  hems  of  our  garments  with  their  venom,  they 
nevertheless  will  have  to  bend  the  knee  when  we 
make  our  triumphant  entry.  Ambition  such  as  this 
even  you  must  understand,  little  fox.  'Ferdinand 
the  chosen  of  the  people,'  is  a  proud  name,  and,  if 
all  goes  well,  it  shall  be  mine." 

After  a  short  time,  he  added,  M  It  will  be  a  hard 
fight,  notwithstanding,  and  the  time  is  hardly  yet 
ripe  for  it ;  we  may  have  to  wait  a  long  time  in 
useless  martyrdom,  in  fruitless  discussions,  or  perhaps 
even  in  absolute  idleness.  Vedremo  I  we  have  many 
hours  to  think  of  it.  You  have  only  just  become 
mine,  for  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  shown  you 
my  true  self." 

Regarding  his  dreams  for  the  future,  George 
Brandes  describes  them  in  a  pathetic  manner  when 
he  speaks  of  his  sojourn  on  the  Rhine  : 

"  Everywhere  the  same  sight.  Hundreds  of  work- 
men met  him,  cheering,  at  every  station,  and  a  long 
procession  accompanied  him  to  his  home,  which  was 
decorated  with  wreaths  and  bouquets.  They  presented 
him  with  tokens  of  esteem.  In  all  towns  and  streets 
there  were  serenades  in  his  honour,  triumphal  arches, 
garlands,  and  inscriptions ;  acclamations  burst  forth 
from  a  thousand  throats.  Wherever  he  went,  work- 
men, young  and  old,  in  carts  covered  with  banners 
and  wreaths,  pressed  forward  to  welcome  him — proud 
if  they  could  press  his  hand,  or  get  a  greeting  from 
him.  Sometimes  as  many  as  twenty-five  carriages 
covered  with  wreaths  followed  him  in  cortege.  In 
order  to  give  an  impression  of  the  precise  state  of 
mind  of  the  people,  I  will  quote  passages  from  the 
Ronsdorf  newspaper  of  May  23  : 

When  the  cortege  approaehed  the  borders  of  Ronsdorf,  one 
saw  every  one  was  afoot,  old  and  young  ;  the  multitudes  covered 

119 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

the  heights.  At  the  entrance  to  the  village  was  another 
garland  surrounded  with  a  crown  and  bearing  the  inscription, 
"  Willkommen  Dr.  Ferdinand  Lassalle  viel  tausendmal  im 
Ronadoiftal.'' 

Similar  inscriptions  and  floral  tribunes  decorated  the  whole 
of  his  route.  The  President's  carriage  was  easily  recognised  by 
the  placard,  " Let  us  unite"  and  masses  of  flowers  were  thrown 
into  it  by  the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  working  men.  At 
this  spot,  crowds  of  skilled  workmen  from  Solingen  and  Wer- 
melskirchen  were  waiting  to  receive  the  President  and  join  the 
procession.  The  rejoicings  were  indescribable,  and  continued 
all  the  way  to  Ronsdorf.  It  was  an  interesting  sight  to  see  the 
pitch  of  eagerness  of  the  crowd  who,  when  the  road  suddenly 
went  downhill,  and  the  carriages  advanced  more  quickly,  started 
running  full  tilt  in  order  to  keep  up  with  the  procession.  Such 
were  their  efforts  that  most  of  them  arrived  simultaneously 
with  the  carriages. 

Everything  was  to  be  even  greater  than  this.  He 
would  be  satisfied  with  nothing  less  than  the  homage 
of  an  entire  people  bowing  before  the  President  of 
their  choice.  I  smiled  happily  at  all  these  dreams. 
I  believed  in  their  realisation  when  he  stood  before 
me  then,  like  a  god  of  war,  his  keen  glance  searching 
space. 


120 


CHAPTER  XIX 

On  one  of  our  last  evenings  together,  my  friends  had 
given  a  little  champagne  supper  in  honour  of  our 
engagement.  When  it  was  over,  and  I  returned 
to  my  room  somewhat  fatigued,  I  went  to  the 
window  to  enjoy  the  delicious  moonlight  and  the  cool 
night  air. 

Suddenly  two  arms  were  flung  round  me,  and 
Ferdinand  swung  himself  upon  my  window  ledge, 
which  was  near  the  ground,  and  took  no  notice  of 
my  anxious  expostulations.  Oh,  the  glorious  hours 
of  that  summer  night !  Neither  before  nor  afterwards 
did  I  know  anything  more  beautiful !  The  full  moon 
shone  in  the  heavens,  and  from  the  highlands  the 
eternal  snow  giants  greeted  us.  All  was  silent,  holy, 
and  only  our  whispering  voices  floated  out  on  the 
heavenly  night. 

When  I  protested  against  his  remaining  so  late,  he 
whispered,  "  Be  silent.  I  will  sit  here  quite  quietly, 
and  chat  until  you  are  too  tired  to  say  to  me 
couche-tol  The  night  is  so  glorious,  my  heart  so 
full,  and  you  so  near !  How  could  one  sleep  ?  Let 
us  chat,  or  pray  to  the  moon,  or,  by  merely  repeating 
to  each  other  the  two  words  *  Ferdinand,'  'Helene,' 
compose  anew  love's  ■  song  of  songs.' " 

We  sat  on — he  on  the  outside  of  the  window 
ledge,  I  on  the  inside — and  talked  in  happy  whispers 
of  our  still  happier  future.  He  told  me  about  his 
old  housekeeper  Johanna,  and  how  pleased  she  would 
be  when  he  brought  home  a  wife  who  "  understood 

121 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

what  good  living  meant,  and  yet,  like  my  *  golden  fox,' 
would  not  trouble  herself  about  housekeeping." 

"  No,  indeed ! "  I  said,  "  I  don't  understand  a  thing 
about  it,  and  should  only  make  myself  ridiculous." 

"  Heaven  be  praised  ! "  he  replied  ;  "  I  should  hate 
to  have  a  wife  who  looked  after  the  kitchen  more 
than  she  did  me !  Johanna  has  kept  house  for  me 
for  the  last  ten  years,  so  she  can  go  on  doing  it." 

Then  we  began  talking  of  our  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances, and  I  mentioned  what  the  wife  of  Bismarck's 
secretary  had  said  about  him,  and  asked  him : 

u  Is  it  true  that  you  have  all  sorts  of  secret  doings 
with  Bismarck  ? " 

He  sat  still  a  moment,  then  laughed  softly,  almost 
uncannily,  and  taking  my  hand,  he  half  whispered, 
"  This  child  ! — did  one  ever  hear  the  like  ?  With  these 
little  fingers  (for  you  know  it  is  ridiculous  to  have 
such  little  fingers  I),  with  these  little  elfin  paws,  she 
turns  over  my  most  precious  secrets,  that  I  keep  like 
costly  gems  in  the  secret  treasury  of  my  heart.  She 
rummages  about  there,  treats  these  priceless  jewels  as 
if  they  were  her  own  possessions,  strews  a  few  of 
them  about  as  if  they  were  chaff,  and  then  demands 
the  best  of  all  for  herself,  as  an  ornament  for  her  hair  ! 
But  I  adore  this  naive  impudence  !  Though  you  had 
no  idea  what  you  were  asking  for,  you  shall  have  it. 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  I  did  go  and  see  Bismarck  !  The 
great '  iron '  one  wanted  to  captivate  me,  and  iron,  you 
know,  is  a  very  necessary  metal,  so  strong,  so  tough,  so 
proof  against  blows  and  knocks  !  What  has  iron  not 
been  able  to  achieve  in  this  world?  Nearly  every- 
thing is  made  with,  or  rendered  firm  by  iron — nearly 
everything  !  But  there  exists  another  and  different 
metal,  more  supple  and  pliable — not  intended  for 
heroic  weapons,  and  yet  mightier  than  this  omnipotent 
iron  ;  it  is  gold  !  What  iron  has  destroyed,  gold  can 
build  up  again  ;  it  was  a  rain  of  gold  which  seduced 
the  heart  of  Dairae  1  Yes,  yes,  you  golden  fox,  it  is 
a  question  which  of  the  two  metals  is  the  mightier 

122 


IN  THE  MOONLIGHT 

and  more  powerful.  It  is  true  that  up  there  in  '  iron 
circles '  gold  is  Jewish,  but  the  main  point  is,  what 
it  achieves  !  Iron  with  time  gets  rusty,  and  rusty 
iron  belongs  to  the  lumber-room !  Then  away  with 
it  to  the  lumber-room  of  centuries  and  history  ! 

"To  return  to  Bismarck.  You  asked  me  what 
he  wanted  from  me,  and  I  from  him.  Be  satisfied 
with  this,  that  nothing  happened,  and  nothing  could 
happen,  because  we  were  both  too  clever ;  each  saw 
how  clever  the  other  was,  and  we  could  only  have 
ended  (politically  speaking)  by  laughing  in  each  other's 
face.  Of  course  we  were  too  well  bred  to  do  this, 
and  it  all  ended  in  a  visit  and  witty  conversation." 

"  How  did  you  like  Bismarck  ?  Did  you  find  him 
clever  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Clever !  What  is  clever  ?  If  you  and  I  are 
clever,  then  Bismarck  is  not.  He  is  mighty,  im- 
posing— is  just  'iron.'  If  one  refines  iron,  it  becomes 
steel,  out  of  which  one  can  make  sharp,  gleaming, 
splendid  weapons,  but  they  always  remain  weapons. 
I  prefer  gold — gold  such  as  my  fox  wears  upon 
her  head ;  and  it  has  been  given  to  me  in  the 
mysterious  power  of  attracting  human  beings  and 
making  them  mine.  You  shall  see  one  day,  my 
darling,  what  our  gold  is  able  to  achieve." 

After  a  short  pause,  I  remarked,  "  But  you  yourself 
speak  a  great  deal  of  weapons,  of  blood  and  strife ; 
and  after  all,  revolutions  are  not  made  without 
weapons  and  without  iron." 

"  Child,  child !  What  is  it  you  do  not  want  to 
know  in  this  moonlight  night  ?  The  results  of 
thousands  of  years  and  of  the  profoundest  study,  and 
you  ask  me  lightly  to  give  you  all  this — to  throw  it 
in  your  lap. 

"  To  speak  of  struggles,  to  call  to  arms  is  not  really 
as  vile  as  mowing  down  one's  fellow-creatures  with 
blood-smeared  hands,  and  with  a  cold  heart !  *  Do 
you  understand,  clever  little  fox,  what  weapons  1 
allude  to  ?     I  hold  my  golden  weapons  of  the  mind, 

123 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

the  art  of  eloquence,  charity,  benefits  to  the  poor, 
and  the  making  of  men  of  the  working  classes  and 
the  poverty-stricken ;  and  above  all,  my  will,  far 
higher  than  the  mere  brute  force  of  the  rusty  Middle 
Ages.  Blood  and  the  sword  are  to  be  the  last  re- 
sources, if  they  will  not  have  it  otherwise.  But  1 
think  they  will,  and  will  learn  to  fear  without  the 
sword.  But  look,  day  is  dawning,  and  we  are  going 
to  Niesen  to-day,  so  sleep  well,  and  dream  of  me." 

He  folded  me  once  more  in  his  arms,  said,  "  What 
a  glorious  wife  I  shall  make  out  of  this  adored  child, 
when  she  is  mine  " ;  then  he  left  me. 

The  picnic  came  off  on  the  morrow.  I  found 
mountain-climbing  difficult,  on  account  of  the  weak- 
ness of  my  lungs.  Lassalle  helped  me  by  placing  his 
hands  against  my  back,  and  bidding  me  lean  all  my 
weight  against  them,  saying  encouragingly  from  time 
to  time,  "  Breathe  slowly,  lean  back !  Don't  talk," 
and  in  this  way  I  got  up  splendidly. 

It  was  a  lovely  day,  with  brilliant  sunshine, 
magnificent  views,  balmy  breezes,  and  Lassalle  in  his 
happiest  mood.  No  one  who  has  not  known  this 
gifted  being  at  his  zenith,  as  he  was  in  those  days, 
can  realise  to  what  extent  he  could  inspire  those 
around  him  to  give  forth  of  their  highest  and  best. 
My  friends  realised  this  too,  and  again  and  again  they 
said  that  no  parents  could  refuse  their  daughter  to 
such  a  man.     I  believed  this  too. 

Our  homeward  journey  was  not  so  easy.  The 
other  ladies  and  I  were  all  very  tired,  and  Lassalle 
made  use  of  his  most  excellent  conversational  powers 
to  encourage  us  over  the  difficulties  of  the  descent. 
They  acted  on  us  like  champagne.  He  told  us  of 
his  friendship  with  Heinrich  Heine,  and  of  the  letter 
I  have  already  spoken  of.  He  told  how  he,  a  mere 
boy  at  the  time,  took  up  the  cause  of  the  almost 
dying  poet,  arranged  all  his  most  complicated  family 
affairs,  and  obtained  for  him  a  settled  yearly  income. 
He  knew,  and   quoted  to  us,  whole   pages   out  of 

124 


LASSALLE  AND  HEINE 

Heme's  letters,  to  which  we  listened  with  the  greatest 
interest.  The  following  quotations  from  these  letters 
I  now  copy  from  George  Brandes,  as  he  no  doubt 
possessed  the  originals,  whereas  I  had  heard  merely 
certain  passages  quoted  by  Lassalle.  The  latter  told 
us  at  the  time  that  Heine  said  that  he  would  die  like 
a  gladiator,  with  a  smile  upon  his  lips.  I  remembered 
a  few  weeks  later,  with  streaming  eyes,  these  terribly 
prophetic  words. 

The  sick  poet,  in  speaking  of  the  young  gladiator, 
mentioned  him  as  his  nearest  friend  and  comrade-in- 
arms.    The  letter  is  as  follows : — 

I  confine  myself  to  thanking  you  to-day.  No  one  has  ever 
shown  such  zeal  and  clearness  of  mind  in  action.  You  have, 
indeed,  every  right  to  be  conceited.  We  others  only  usurp  this 
privilege.     In  comparison  with  you  I  am  only  a  modest  fly. 

And  again,  in  another  part : 

Good-bye,  and  believe  me  when  I  say  that  you  are  dear  to 
me  beyond  words.  I  am  glad  I  was  not  mistaken  in  you.  I 
never  trusted  any  one  so  much,  I  who  have  been  suspicious,  not 
by  nature,  but  as  the  result  of  unfortunate  experiences.  Since 
I  have  received  your  letters  my  courage  has  risen  and  I  am 
better. 

It  is  almost  pathetic  to  see  this  man  of  forty-six, 
a  great  poet,  broken  down  by  sorrows,  realising  the 
protection  of  this  young  soul  of  iron  which  only 
twenty  summers  have  served  to  mould  to  unyielding 
strength,  and  which  still  has  enough  courage  left  to 
serve  all  who  appeal  to  him  for  help. 

Lassalle  also  told  us  many  amusing  anecdotes  in 
connection  with  his  stay  in  Paris  at  the  time.  We 
enjoyed  one  particularly,  of  which  I  spoke  on  some 
other  occasion. 

Lassalle  had  a  letter  of  introduction  to  a  well- 
known  and  very  beautiful  lady,  and  according  to  the 
German  etiquette  of  the  time,  called  on  her  at  twelve 
o'clock,  a  most  unusual  hour  for  Paris.  He  rang  the 
bell  and  gave,  as  he  thought,  his  card  to  the  man- 
servant who  opened  the  door.     Whereupon  the  man 

125 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOW1TZA 

ushered  him  into  an  elegant  boudoir  saying,  "  Prenez 
place,  Madame  viendra  tout  de  suite ! "  The  door 
opposite  opened,  and  a  lady,  in  very  pronounced 
neglige,  with  bare  feet  pushed  into  dainty  slippers, 
came  in  saying,  "  Ah !  vous  voila,  bonjour ! "  sat 
herself  down  on  the  sofa,  pushed  off  a  slipper,  and 
presented  to  him  a  sweet  little  rosy  foot ! 

Lassalle  was,  of  course,  extremely  astonished,  but 
pulled  himself  quickly  together,  pressed  a  kiss  on  the 
little  foot,  and  said,  "Charmed  Madame,  de  cette 
nouvelle  maniere  de  faire  connaissance.  C'est  bien 
plus  joli,  et  surtout  plus  intime  que  d'embrasser  la 
main  I " 

The  lady  jumped  up,  put  up  her  lorgnon  in 
indignation,  which  was  speedily  transformed  into 
embarrassment. 

"  Mais,  mon  Dieu,  Monsieur !  Qui  etes-vous  ? 
Je  vous  ai  pris  pour  le  pedicure,  vous  m'aviez  envoy^ 
cette  carte." 

In  taking  up  the  cards  that  had  been  left  on  him 
at  the  hotel  that  morning,  the  advertisement  card  of 
the  chiropodist  in  question  had  been  among  them, 
and  he  had  inadvertently  sent  it  in  to  the  lady 
instead  of  his  own.  Explanation  !  Tableau  1  Peals 
of  laughter  !  "  And,"  he  added,  "  I  never  had  reason 
to  regret  having  kissed  this  foot.  I  was  right ;  it 
was  the  most  intimate  beginning,  and  my  principle 
has  always  been  never  to  take  a  step  backwards." 

His  high  spirits  inspired  us  with  renewed  energy, 
but  we  were,  nevertheless,  glad  to  follow  the  men's 
advice,  and  take  a  short-cut  across  the  fields. 

Our  jokes  and  laughter  were  interrupted  by  the 
most  dreadful  howls  and  bellowings  from  all  sides. 
It  was  a  dark  night,  and  the  moon  had  not  yet  risen, 
so  we  could  distinguish  nothing  in  our  first  terrified 
surprise  at  the  attack.  The  ladies  began  to  scream, 
as  a  shower  of  blows  delivered  from  clubs,  sticks, 
and  fists  descended  upon  us.  We  saw  ourselves 
surrounded  by  a  herd  of  creatures  that  could  only 

126 


ATTACKED  BY  CRETINS 

be  described  as  devils  in  half-human  and  half-animal 
form.  They  were  horrible  cretins  —  the  very 
lowest  form  of  humanity.  Not  one  or  two,  such  as 
one  sometimes  meets  in  mountain  villages,  but  a 
whole  colony  of  them — dwarf-like,  yet  sturdy,  and 
their  rage  lent  them  the  strength  of  bears.  Later, 
we  heard  that  an  entire  community  of  these  creatures 
inhabited  this  district. 

We  defended  ourselves  against  their  onslaught  as 
best  we  could,  but  Lassalle  was  the  only  man  of  the 
party  whose  strength  was  superior  to  theirs.  He 
struck  right  and  left — a  very  Siegfried  in  contest 
against  the  hellish  brood  !  Our  other  male  com- 
panions were  short  and  slight,  and  unable  to  reckon 
with  these  enraged  creatures,  of  whose  guttural 
ejaculations  we  could  understand  nothing.  We  all 
fought  desperately  with  our  umbrellas,  sticks,  and 
leather  straps,  but  all  to  no  purpose,  for  our  garments 
hung  in  shreds  upon  us,  when  at  last  the  creatures 
gave  in,  and  burst  into  lamentations  and  tears. 

It  was  only  now  that  we  were  able  to  gather 
from  them  that  our  short-cut  had  led  us  over  their 
harvest-fields.  They  were  furious  at  seeing  their 
crops  in  danger,  and  were  only  pacified  at  last  by 
presents  of  money  and  assurances  of  our  goodwill. 
Upon  this  they  withdrew. 

But  what  an  appearance  we  presented,  especially 
Lassalle,  who,  during  his  courageous  defence,  had 
received  two  heavy  blows  on  his  nose  and  forehead ! 
His  face  was  all  swollen  and  bruised ;  and  we  limped 
home  in  a  sorry  plight. 

Our  one  idea  now  was  to  postpone  the  journey 
home  to  Geneva,  which  had  been  planned  for  the 
following  day,  and  to  nurse  the  nose  back  to  its 
pristine  beauty. 

Next  morning,  his  face  was  purple  and  brown, 
but  his  good  spirits  helped  us  to  regain  our  own. 
We  laughed  at  the  "  Dandy"  who  wished  to  captivate 
mamma,  looking  like  a  ruffian  ;  and  his  nose  having 

127 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  KACOWITZA 

been  bandaged,  we  were  as  merry  as  children  discuss- 
ing the  long  and  happy  future  that  lay  before  us. 

I  had  to  describe  my  parents  minutely  to  him  ; 
also  my  brothers  and  sisters  and  all  our  most  intimate 
friends,  as  he  intended  captivating  every  one  of  them. 

To  those  days  belong  several  letters  to  the 
Countess,  which  were  published  in  the  Sorrows  of 
Lassalle.     Among  others  he  wrote  the  following  : — 

The  matter  is  becoming  serious,  very  serious,  and  the 
magnitude  of  its  proportion  fills  me  with  preoccupation.  I 
cannot  retrace  my  steps  now,  and  I  really  hardly  know  why  I 
should  wish  to.  She  is  a  beautiful  woman,  and  the  only  one 
whose  individuality  makes  her  peculiarly  fitted  to  be  my  wife. 
The  only  woman  that  even  you  would  approve  of.  Therefore, 
en  avant,  across  the  Rubicon.  Now  that  my  old  power  and 
happiness  have  returned  to  me,  I  shall  be  able  to  bring  matters 
to  a  brilliant  conclusion. 

And  again : 

Her  disposition  is  like  one  of  Goethe's  conceptions,  for  in 
spite  of  her  worldly  bringing  up  the  social  veneer  has  never 
touched  her  real  self.  Her  only  fault,  and  this  is  a  gigantic  one, 
is  that  she  has  no  will  whatever — not  a  vestige  of  it.  In  itself, 
this  is,  of  course,  a  fault,  but  if  we  become  man  and  wife,  it  would 
perhaps  cease  to  become  one,  for  I  will  have  enough  for  both  of 
us,  and  she  would  be  as  an  instrument  in  the  hand  of  an  artist. 
It  will  naturally  render  our  union  more  difficult  to  accomplish. 
To-day  she  is  decided,  but  how  long  would  a  being  so  devoid  of 
will  be  able  to  resist  opposition  ?  I  mean  to  talk  to  her  very 
seriously  about  this,  before  I  take  any  steps  whatever. 

In  a  letter  written  three  days  later  he  says  : 

Everything  is  now  definitely  arranged.  It  is  no  small 
piece  of  luck  for  me  at  the  age  of  thirty-nine  and  a  half  to  have 
found  so  beautiful  a  woman,  whose  personality  is  so  sympathetic 
to  mine,  who  loves  me,  and — a  necessity  in  my  case — whose  will 
is  absolutely  subservient  to  mine.  God  knows  what  the  parents 
in  Geneva  will  say  to  it  all ;  anyhow,  both  of  us  have  decided  to 
carry  it  through,  no  matter  what  happens. 

In  a  third  letter,  dated  Berne,  August  3,  he  writes  : 

Helene  has  now  decided,  if  I  wished  it,  to  run  away  from 
her  parents  to-morrow,  and  follow  me  to  the  world's  end  as  a 

128 


HAPPY  DAYS 

gipsy.     I  sincerely  hope  and  believe  that  her  parents  will  consent 
at  once,  or  at  least,  after  a  few  attacks  of  the  stormy  eloquence  t 
with  which  I  intend  to  bombard  them  ;  otherwise,  by  heavens, 
I  will  stand  at  nothing  ! 

As  I  said  before,  I  had  written  to  the  Countess. 
My  letter  was  full  of  feeling  and  admiration  for  the 
"  motherly  friend  of  my  eagle,"  and  I  had  assured 
her  of  my  "  childlike  and  affectionate  devotion." 

How  inexperienced  I  must  have  been  in  those 
days,  in  spite  of  all  my  worldliness,  and  how  little 
Lassalle  must  have  understood  women's  character, 
notwithstanding  his  many  love  episodes  !  It  is  com- 
prehensible in  his  case,  for  every  genius  is  a  child  at 
heart.  But  how  I  could,  even  young  as  I  was,  have 
imagined,  even  for  a  moment,  that  this  other  woman 
would  ever  allow  another  to  usurp  the  place  she  had 
held  so  long  as  undivided  ruler  in  the  heart  of  this 
great  man,  is  to  me  now  incomprehensible.  She 
might  have  condoned  his  little  love  affairs,  but  she 
would  never  forgive  a  serious  and  deep  love.  One 
can  hardly  blame  her  looking  at  it  from  a  human  point 
of  view. 

If  we  had  not  been  so  full  of  ourselves  and  our 
own  happiness  in  those  first  days,  it  must  have  struck 
me  as  curious  that  I  had  received  no  answer  to  the 
letter  I  had  written  to  Papa  Holthoff;  but  neither  of 
us  troubled. 

Lassalle  believed  implicitly  in  his  confidante,  and 
we  were  so  lost  in  each  other  that  neither  of  us 
wondered  at  the  silence  of  Holthoff  and  the  Countess. 
That  my  old  friend,  who  at  the  same  time  was  a  friend 
of  my  family,  and  who  had  hitherto  been  entirely  on 
my  side,  could  ever  play  a  double  game  never  occurred 
to  either  of  us.  On  the  contrary,  Lassalle  said  that 
the  moment  he  arrived  in  Geneva  he  would  telegraph 
to  Holthoff  to  join  him.  He  counted  on  him  as  the 
most  powerful  intercessor  with  my  parents,  and  said 
that,  as  his  lawyer,  he  could  arrange  all  business 
details  with  my  father.      We  both   looked  forward 

129  k 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

to  meeting  this  friend,  who  would  be  so  pleased  at 
our  happiness. 

These  few  happy  days  ended  and  the  time  arrived 
for  us  to  say  good-bye.  How  full  of  joy  and  hope 
we  were  1  Ferdinand  was  to  follow  me  by  the  next 
train,  and  we  were  to  meet  the  same  afternoon  at 
my  friend  Caroline  R.'s.  We  did  not  travel  by  the 
same  train,  for  the  sake  of  appearances,  much  to  the 
astonishment  of  my  American  and  English  friends, 
who  looked  upon  this  deference  to  conventionality 
as  ridiculous.  We  did  it  also  in  order  to  give  my 
parents  no  cause  for  displeasure.  I  therefore  travelled 
to  Geneva  with  the  elder  of  the  two  English  ladies. 
Ferdinand  and  I  embraced  each  other  at  the  station 
for  the  last  time  as  happy  people. 


180 


CHAPTER  XX 

On  arriving  at  home,  I  found  them  all  in  a  state 
of  rejoicing  over  my  sister's  engagement  to  Count 
Kaiserling,  whom  we  all  liked  extremely.  Carried 
away  by  this,  I  was  foolish  enough  to  confide  my  own 
engagement  to  my  mother. 

Had  I  announced  my  intention  of  murdering  the 
entire  family  in  the  most  brutal  way,  it  could  not  have 
evoked  a  greater  storm  of  horror  and  indignation  than 
did  the  announcement  of  this  event  which  brought  so 
much  happiness  to  me. 

It  was  the  work  of  a  moment  for  her  to  rush  to 
my  father ;  to  put  him  in  a  towering  rage  ;  to  return 
with  him  to  my  room — both  of  them  furious. 

At  first  I  could  not  understand  this  sudden  and 
violent  attack.  I  tried  to  explain  to  this  enraged 
couple  that  the  man  they  were  attacking  so  un- 
warrantably was  a  world  -  famed  philosopher  and 
scholar,  but  they  gave  me  no  chance  of  speaking. 
They  used  expressions  which  I  would  have  deemed 
impossible  in  people  of  their  birth  and  education. 
My  father  used  such  insulting  language  that  at  last  I 
felt  the  Viking  blood  of  the  "Tonniges"  (the  old 
Norse  name  of  my  family)  rise  in  my  veins.  I  called 
out  proudly  and  distinctly,  "  You  can  do  as  you  like  ! 
I  mean  to  marry  Lassalle." 

"  I  would  rather  shoot  you  down  like  a  mad  dog," 
my  father  shouted  as  he  rushed  away,  putting  an  end 
to  this  terrible  scene.  After  he  had  left  the  room, 
foaming   with    rage,    I   wrote    the  whole    story  to 

131 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

Lassalle.  The  rest  of  the  family  went  into  the 
dining-room,  leaving  me  alone  in  my  room  as  a  kind 
of  prisoner.  I  summoned  my  faithful  maid  The'rese, 
entrusted  her  with  the  letter,  and  bade  her  deliver 
it  immediately  at  the  pension  where  Lassalle  had 
alighted. 

My  letter  ended  with  these  words : 

In  any  case,  I  will  be  as  firm  as  a  rock !  How  I  am 
longing  for  you,  my  dearest  heart.  It  is  six  o'clock,  and  you, 
my  lord  and  master,  must  have  arrived.  The  very  thought  of 
this  gives  me  strength,  for  I  need  your  presence  to  counteract 
my' weakness. 

The'rese  had  hardly  left,  when,  looking  at  the 
clock,  I  discovered  that  Lassalle  must  be  arriving  at 
Geneva  at  about  this  moment.  I  made  up  my  mind 
and  left  the  house.  The  servants  were  busy  waiting 
at  table,  so  I  escaped  unobserved.  When  I  arrived 
at  the  pension,  he  was  just  alighting  from  his  cab,  and 
looked  at  me  in  consternation  as  I  stood  before  him, 
pale  as  death,  and  in  the  greatest  excitement.  He 
opened  the  door  of  a  sitting-room,  and  said  to  the 
hotel  waiter,  "  Let  no  one  disturb  us." 

Thdrese  had  given  him  my  letter,  which  he  still 
held  unopened  in  his  hand. 

I  sent  The'rese  home,  in  order  that  she  should  not 
be  missed,  and  as  I  was  in  an  almost  fainting  condition, 
I  signed  to  him  to  open  and  read  it 

I  closed  my  eyes,  and  wondered  what  our  next 
step  would  be.  Then  a  most  unexpected  and  dreadful 
thing  happened,  which  was  the  beginning  of  all  the 
tragedies  which  followed.     He  called  out,  "  Helene  !  " 

I  looked  up,  frightened  at  the  unusual  tone. 
"You  disobeyed  me — you  have  betrayed  everything 
to  your  mother  against  my  wishes,  and  through  this 
have  spoiled  everything." 

He  stood  before  me,  pale  as  death,  his  blue  eyes 
blazing  with  anger.  When  he  saw  how  frightened  I 
was,  he  grew  more  gentle  and  said,  "  No,  no  !  I  will 
arrange  it  somehow  ;  but  what  are  we  to  do  next  ? " 

132 


FAMILY  TROUBLE 

1  looked  up  at  him  in  astonishment  and  said, 
"  Now  that  I  know  my  parents  to  be  inexorable,  it 
would  be  impossible  for  me  to  remain  with  them. 
Therefore  I  have  come  to  carry  out  the  plans  we  made 
before,  and  to  fly  with  you  abroad  to  be  married.'' 

For  one  moment  he  folded  me  gratefully  in  his 
arms,  then  instead  of  being  delighted  with  my  decision, 
said,  "No,  I  will  not  run  away  now.  With  whom 
do  your  haughty  parents  think  they  are  dealing  ? 
Now,  I  will  only  take  you  from  their  hands  as  my 
bride,  and  they  themselves  shall  lead  us  to  the 
altar." 

"Ferdinand,"  I  said  warningly,  "my  father  will 
never  give  his  consent — believe  me.     Let  us  fly  ! " 

But  he  shook  his  head  obstinately  and  said,  "  His 
will  must  give  way  to  mine ;  he  shall  learn  to  feel  my 
power  ;  I  shall  conjure  up  heaven  and  hell  against 
him.     You  must  go  back  to  them." 

"  Never  ! "  I  answered  indignantly.  "  This  hour 
has  severed  us  for  ever." 

"  Very  well,  then — go  to  friends.  I  will  ask  my 
friend  Countess  Hatzfeld  to  come  here  immediately, 
who  will  take  charge  of  you,  and  in  the  meantime 
I  will  battle  against  all  your  father's  prejudices,  and 
shall  succeed ! " 

"  Ah !  the  Countess,"  I  said  sadly,  for  all  joy 
and  courage  seemed  suddenly  to  have  deserted  me. 
"She  is  one  of  the  chief  grievances  my  father  has 
against  you.  Even  now,  a  relative  is  staying  with 
us,  a  Dr.  Arndt,  who  has  been  telling  my  parents 
dreadful  stories  about  you  and  the  Countess ;  calling 
her  an  immoral  woman — even  worse ;  and  this  has 
enraged  my  father  more  than  your  politics." 

Ferdinand  laughed  derisively. 

"  Oh,  indeed !  Dr.  Arndt !  His  motives  are 
mere  petty  vengeance  ;  only  a  few  months  ago  I 
had  him  turned  out  of  my  'universal  union'  for 
working  men  on  account  of  his  narrow-mindedness 
and  want  of  tact." 

133 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

"That  is  all  very  well,  but  papa  thinks  a  great 
deal  of  this  nephew.' 

"  Very  well,  then,  the  Countess  must  stay  at  home, 
and  I  will  ask  my  mother  and  sister  to  come  here. 
Nothing  can  be  said  against  them.  They,  and  friend 
Holthoff,  will  take  you  under  their  protection." 

HolthofF!  Good  heavens!  I  just  remembered 
that  a  letter  was  lying  on  my  writing-table  at  home. 
In  the  hurry  and  excitement  I  had  forgotten  it.  It 
was  still  lying  there  unopened.  I  told  Ferdinand 
of  this,  but  he  hardly  seemed  to  listen,  and  said  : 

"  Yes,  HolthofF  must  come  here ;  he  loves  us 
both  and  was  always  favourable  to  our  marriage." 

I  made  one  more  appeal  to  him,  although  I  felt 
it  was  almost  hopeless.  I  placed  my  hands  on  his 
shoulders,  and,  looking  up  at  him  entreatingly,  I  said, 
"  Ferdinand,  do  nothing  of  all  this.  Don't  send  me 
back.  Let  us  go  away  together.  I  am  prepared  for 
all.     I  am  your  wife,  your  slave  1 " 

But  he  remained  firm. 

Later  on,  I  heard  that  people  had  said  that  these 
words  proved  I  now  became  his  mistress  in  the  hotel. 
Good  heavens  I  Our  minds  were  far  from  erotic 
thoughts.  We  hardly  thought  of  our  love  and 
passion  in  those  dreadful  moments.  With  him, 
wounded  vanity  was  in  the  foreground ;  with  me, 
sheer  despair.  Indeed,  as  an  old  friend  of  Lassalle's 
remarked  afterwards  when  speaking  of  his  extra- 
ordinary behaviour  on  that  occasion,  "If  we  had 
belonged  to  each  other  entirely  in  that  fateful  hour, 
neither  the  family  nor  fate  would  ever  have  succeeded 
in  parting  us." 

Perhaps ! 

I  believe  I  have  thought  more  of  the  part  Lassalle 
played  in  this  hour  than  of  anything  that  has  happened 
to  me  during  my  whole  life.  I  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  his  behaviour  was  due,  not  to 
wounded  vanity,  arising  from  my  parents'  refusal,  but 
from  other  causes,  the  knowledge  of  which  I  gleaned 

134 


FLIGHT  WITH  LASSALLE 

from  a  letter  which  he  wrote  to  a  friend  before  he 
left  for  Rigi  Kaltbad,  and  which  ran  as  follows : — 

I  am  dead  tired,  and  strong  as  my  constitution  is,  it  has 
been  shaken  to  its  very  foundations.  My  excitement  is  so 
great  that  I  am  unable  to  sleep  at  night.  I  toss  about  till 
five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  I  get  up  with  a  bad  headache 
and  am  utterly  exhausted.  I  am  overworked,  tired  out.  The 
superhuman  efforts  I  made  to  work  out  in  four  months  the 
Bastiat-Schultz  affair,  the  horrible  disappointment  and  annoy- 
ance that  the  apathy  and  indifference  of  the  working  classes 
caused  me,  were  all  too  much,  even  for  me.  I  am  playing  a 
metier  de  dupe,  and  my  annoyance  is  all  the  greater,  because  I 
am  not  only  obliged  to  suppress  it,  but  to  appear  sometimes  as 
if  the  reverse  were  the  case. 

This  letter  testifies  to  his  energy,  which  was 
strained  to  its  utmost  limits.  After  only  a  few 
weeks  of  leisure  on  the  Rigi  in  which  to  recover 
from  his  fatigue,  there  came  all  the  excitement  of 
our  meeting,  engagement,  and  threatened  conflict 
with  my  family.  He,  or  rather  his  weakened  nervous 
system,  must  have  been  seized  with  a  sort  of  moral 
insanity,  which  made  him — usually  the  strongest- 
willed  being,  and  one  who  never  hesitated  before 
making  great  decisions  nor  made  the  slightest  con- 
cession to  conventionality — act  like  the  most  straight- 
laced  bourgeois.  I  suddenly  remembered  the  fable 
he  had  told  me,  and  called  out  desperately  : 

"  Don't  try  to  carry  the  donkey  now,  it  is  not  the 
moment  to  do  so." 

Just  then  some  one  knocked  loudly  at  the  door, 
which  flew  open,  and  The'rese  appeared.  "For 
heaven's  sake,"  she  almost  shouted  to  us,  "  fly  at  once. 
I  have  brought  a  carriage  with  me.  Every  one  is 
looking  for  you  at  home,  and  the  train  starts  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour." 

This  was  the  last  chance  given  me  by  fate. 

Ferdinand — whose  features  had  become  almost 
stony — offered  me  his  arm,  saying,  "Come,  I  will 
take  you  to  your  friends,  and  you  must  stay  with 
them  until  my  mother  and  Holthoff  arrive." 

135 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

I  said  nothing  more. 

Thdrese  stood  wringing  her  hands  at  the  carriage 
door.  She  knew  my  parents  and  what  was  in  store 
for  us. 

Broken-hearted,  I  arrived  at  my  friend's  and  hardly 
felt  the  pressure  of  Ferdinand's  hand,  which  he  rested 
on  mine,  whispering  words  of  courage. 

My  friend  received  me  most  kindly.  She  promised 
I  should  see  no  one  but  The'rese,  and  Lassalle  said, 
quite  relieved,  "  Then  you  are  safe  here." 

At  this  moment,  Madame  R.,  who  was  standing 
at  the  window,  called  out,  "  Your  mother  is  coming." 
I  was  terribly  frightened,  but  Lassalle,  relying  on  his 
power  over  women,  said,  "  Heaven  sends  her  to  us. 
I  will  see  her  and  speak  to  her." 

The  scene  that  followed  between  him  and  my 
mother  was  so  terrible  that  it  killed  for  ever  any 
spark  of  feeling  I  might  have  had  left  for  her. 

As  soon  as  she  saw  us,  she  exclaimed,  "  I  will 
not  stand  this  man  in  my  presence  1  Out  with 
him  ! "  Lassalle  approached  her  with  dignity,  assured 
her  of  his  respect  for  her,  and  his  love  for  me,  and 
said  at  last,  "For  heaven's  sake,  tell  me  what  you 
have  against  me." 

She  turned  her  back  to  him  and  screamed  out, 
"  I  owe  you  no  explanation  why,  but  my  husband  will 
have  you  banished.  You  shall  be  thrown  out.  Now, 
out  of  my  sight  I " 

I  was  indignant  I  approached  Lassalle,  and, 
laying  my  hand  upon  his  arm,  said,  "  Come,  let  us 
go ;  I  cannot  stand  hearing  you  spoken  to  like  this ; 
no  one  shall  treat  you  thus  in  my  presence." 

He  took  my  hand,  and  said  quietly  and  politely 
to  mother,  "Do  as  you  please,  Madam,  you  are 
unable  to  put  me  out,  for  always  and  in  all  circum- 
stances I  can  only  see  in  you  Helene's  mother.  I 
shall  not  forget  this  for  one  moment,  nor  shall  I 
allow  myself  to  be  carried  away  into  saying  hasty 
things." 

136 


MY  MOTHERS  ABUSE 

Instead  of  calming  the  excited  and  enraged 
woman,  it  only  made  her  worse,  and  when  Lassalle 
said  that  he  would  go  to  my  father  like  a  sensible 
man,  and  arrange  everything  quietly,  she  replied 
rudely,  "  My  husband  will  not  receive  you ;  he  will 
have  you  turned  out  by  the  servants." 

"  No,  he  will  not  do  that,"  said  Lassalle  quietly  ; 
"  I  am  not  a  man  whom  one  '  turns  out,'  but  as  I  do 
not  wish  to  humiliate  us  all  by  exposing  Helene's 
father  to  such  a  temptation,  I  will  write  to  him." 

"  He  will  return  your  letters  unopened." 

"  If  he  does  that,  Madam,  even  my  patience  will 
be  exhausted ;  we  shall  be  justified  then  in  helping 
ourselves,  for  we  shall  be  forced  to  do  so." 

She  answered  him  ironically,  "You  have  done 
this  already ;  you  have  led  away  my  daughter  to  this 
unheard-of  step.  She  has  left  her  parents'  roof  and 
refuses  to  return.  You  are  a  brute,  you  have  stolen 
my  child!" 

At  this  I  flared  up.  "  He  did  not !  I  went  away 
because  I  feel  I  belong  to  him.  You  have  destroyed 
the  love  I  had  for  you,  and  I  never  wish  to  return." 

I  was  terribly  excited ;  my  whole  being  turned 
against  my  unkind  mother,  and  towards  him  whom  I 
now  loved  madly  ;  but  once  again  he  damped  my 
ardour  when  he  said  quietly,  even  smilingly,  "Do 
you  really  think  I  have  stolen  your  child,  Madam  ? 
You  shall  see  how  wrong  you  are  !  Helene,  tell  me, 
Would  you  do  anything  I  asked  you  ?  Would  no 
sacrifice  be  too  great  for  me  ?  Would  you,  if  I 
wished  it,  go  away  with  me — do  anything  I  ask  you  ? " 

"  Certainly,"  I  answered  unhesitatingly,  although 
with  an  anxious  heart.  "  I  will  do  anything  you 
like ;  go  away  with  you  at  once.  Ask  anything 
you  like  of  me — anything  except  return  to  my  own 
people." 

"And  it  is  just  that  which  I  ask  of  you  !  The 
very  greatest  sacrifice  you  could  make  for  my  sake. 
Will  you  do  it?     Will  you?" 

137 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

"  If  you  really  can  ask  me  this,  then,  Yes  I  But 
think  what  you  are  doing.  I  am  so  frightened — do 
not  send  me  back  to  them.  I  am  trembling  at  the 
thought." 

"  You  will  do  it  for  me,"  he  said  firmly.  "  And 
now,  Madam,  I  give  you  your  child  back  again. 
Listen  !  I,  who  could  have  done  with  your  daughter 
what  I  pleased,  have  returned  her  to  you,  although 
only  for  a  short  time.  She  is  only  going  with  you 
because  I  wish  it.  Never  forget  that — and  now, 
farewell."  He  turned  to  me  and  said,  "  Adieu  for  a 
short  time.  I  will  never  forget  what  you  are  doing 
for  me  now  in  returning  to  your  parents,  and  can 
never  thank  you  enough.  I  ask  nothing  more  of 
your  will  and  strength.  I  know  this  is  sufficient — 
all  else  will  be  my  care.  Do  not  allow  yourself  to 
be  ill-treated,  but  do  what  they  ask  of  you.  I  shall 
know  everything  they  do  to  you,  and  shall  fetch  you 
away  at  the  slightest  injustice.  Remember  this,  and 
do  not  be  unhappy.  They  shall  not  keep  you  long. 
Conform  patiently  for  a  short  time  to  their  will ; 
mine  is  the  stronger ;  we  shall  win — and  now,  once 
again,  adieu  for  a  short  time." 

He  kissed  my  mouth  and  hands  passionately  many 
times,  and  then  left 

It  was  the  last  time  I  ever  beheld  him.  He  had 
hardly  left,  when  my  mother  poured  a  volley  of 
invective  on  me,  in  the  midst  of  which  my  father 
entered,  brandishing  an  old  rifle  and  exclaiming, 
"  Where  is  this  insubordinate  daughter  ?  Let  me  kill 
her." 

My  friend  tried  to  pacify  him,  but  he  seized  me 
by  the  hair,  which  I  wore  in  flowing  curls,  and 
dragged  me  across  the  street  into  our  house.  Here 
my  window  and  door  were  nailed  up,  and  I  remained 
a  prisoner. 

Later,  when  the  volume  of  Lassalle's  Intimate 
Letters  fell  into  my  hands,  I  think  I  found  another 
and  perhaps  the  truest  clue  to   his   unaccountable 

138 


LASSALLES  FILIAL  LOVE 

behaviour  at  this  time.  No  doubt  his  wounded  pride 
and  vanity,  and  the  weak  state  of  his  nerves,  had 
something  to  do  with  it  all,  but  he,  like  most  Jews, 
had  a  most  exalted  love  and  respect  for  his  parents, 
and  imagined  that  in  the  end  he  could  conciliate  mine. 
Like  many  other  great  men,  he  was  often  as  naive  as 
a  child. 

He  overlooked  the  difference  in  character  of  our 
two  families,  also  my  father's  haughty  love  of  position, 
which  he  considered  would  be  endangered  by  his 
daughter's  marriage  with  Lassalle,  the  man  of  the 
people.  He  regarded  everything  through  the  medium 
of  his  own  love  for  his  parents,  and  his  soul  could 
conceive  no  lesser  love  existing  between  parent  and 
child  in  any  station  of  life.  This  sentiment  was 
clearly  shown  in  many  of  his  letters,  and  particularly 
in  the  following  one  addressed  to  his  sister  : — 

Dear  Sister — As  you  know,  my  much-loved  parents  were 
with  me  about  a  fortnight.  You  can  easily  imagine  how  happy 
their  visit  made  me,  but  I  was  terribly  anxious  and  upset  at 
hearing  of  all  my  father's  troubles.  It  is  a  fearful  thing  that  he 
and  my  dear  mother  should  be  suddenly  plunged  into  poverty 
— almost  need — after  their  long  and  industrious  life. 

I  believe  that  my  father  has  not  told  me  all,  in  order  to 
spare  me  anxiety,  as,  alas !  I  am  unable  to  help  them.  All  I 
beg  of  you,  dear  sister,  is  to  arrange  matters  amicably  with  my 
mother,  and  not  to  allow  family  dissensions  to  add  to  my  father's 
burdens. 

Remember  that  people  in  unhappy  circumstances  demand 
more  tenderness  than  when  they  are  m  the  full  flood  of  success. 
I  can't  tell  you  how  unhappy  it  makes  me  not  to  be  able  to 
help  them.  Young  as  I  am,  I  have  had  a  most  varied  life  ;  I 
have  not  only  been  successful  in  a  case  brought  against  me  for 
high  treason,  but  on  two  occasions  I  defied  imprisonment  in 
non-political  lawsuits.  I  have  suffered  much  injustice  and 
unhappiness  —  seen  my  highest  hopes  dissolve  in  air;  but 
assure  you  that  nothing  has  ever  distressed  me  so  much  as  to 
see  the  unfortunate  position  to  which  my  parents  are  reduced 
and  to  be  unable  to  help  them. 

I  have  other  ties.  The  affair  of  the  Countess  which  I 
undertook — being  mixed  up  with  political  affairs — was  at  its 
most  critical  point  during  the  revolution  of  1848,  and  is  now  in 

139 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

a  state  of  collapse.  In  these  circumstances  I  am  in  honour 
bound  not  to  desert  her.  The  captain  is  the  last  person  who 
should  leave  a  sinking  ship,  and  even  if  this  were  not  the  case, 
what  real  good  could  I  be  to  my  parents  ?  The  present'moment 
is  not  one  in  which  mind  and  intelligence  can  be  turned  to  any 
real  profit.  If  you  and  your  husband  could  take  care  of  them, 
I  would  look  upon  it  as  a  personal  benefit,  which  I  would  strive 
to  repay  you  all  my  life.  Although  I  am  unable  to  help  them 
now,  we  are  all  of  us  still  young,  and  later  it  is  quite  possible 
that  I  may  be  in  a  position  to  repay  you  tenfold  for  anything 
you  may  do  for  them  now.  My  life  is  the  best  proof  that  my 
word  can  be  relied  on,  for  I  have  just  gone  through  four  years 
of  anxiety  and  danger  to  keep  a  promise  given.  Nothing  would 
hurt  me  more  than  if  you  did  not  do  your  duty  towards  them 
now. — Your  loving  brother,  Ferdinand. 

Dusseldorf,  2nd  May  1850. 

As  I  understand  him  now  since  the  perusal  of  this 
letter,  he,  wishing  to  become  a  son  to  my  father, 
could  not  act  otherwise.  As  his  filial  love  had 
softened  his  own  father's  heart  towards  him  at  a 
critical  moment,  he  came  to  the  mistaken  conclusion 
that  his  generosity  in  returning  me  to  my  mother 
would  soften  my  fathers  heart  towards  him. 

When  one  remembers  how  Ferdinand's  father 
opposed  his  studies,  his  filial  love  becomes  all  the  more 
touching. 

I  forgot  to  relate  what  Ferdinand  told  me  about 
the  difficulties  he  experienced  from  the  opposition  of 
his  family,  which  he  only  overcame  by  the  greatest 
efforts.  His  father  wished  him  to  go  into  a  banking 
business,  and  placed  him  in  the  School  of  Commerce 
at  Leipzig,  from  which  he  ran  away,  and  returned 
home  without  his  father's  knowledge.  His  mother 
and  sister  hid  him  in  a  little  room  under  the  roof  and 
brought  him  his  food  there.  He  never  left  this  room 
for  months,  and  studied  day  and  night,  until  he  went 
to  one  of  the  Professors  in  Breslau  to  be  examined. 
He  passed  this  examination  so  brilliantly,  that  he 
went  with  the  certificate  to  his  father,  who  then 
consented    to    allow  him    to    study   at    the    Berlin 

140 


LASSALLES  LETTERS 

University.  He  was  then  sixteen  years  of  age.  In 
spite  of  his  father's  undue  severity,  Lassalle's  intimate 
letters,  even  those  written  during  his  student  days, 
breathed  the  greatest  devotion  to  his  parents,  and 
both  he  and  I  made  the  mistake  of  judging  all  the 
people  mixed  up  in  our  story  by  our  own  standard. 


141 


CHAPTER  XXI 

I  was  a  prisoner — and  a  changed  being.  From  that 
moment  I  was  a  child  no  longer,  and  all  sensation 
seemed  dead  within  me.  The  dreadful  shocks  to  my 
nerves,  the  final  catastrophe,  Lassalle's  requesting  me 
to  return  to  my  parents  instead  of  running  away  with 
me,  and  my  father's  attitude  (I  was  alienated  for  ever 
from  my  mother  since  her  insulting  behaviour  to 
Lassalle),  all  combined  to  produce  a  kind  of  apathy 
and  incapacity  of  feeling. 

Everything  seemed  incomprehensible  to  me.  How 
was  it  possible  for  all  those  who  professed  to  love  me 
but  a  short  time  ago  suddenly  to  treat  me  as  they 
did  now  ?  I  sat  and  brooded  in  the  dark,  my  thoughts 
going  round  and  round  in  a  circle.  For  how  many 
days,  I  know  not  I 

The  next  morning,  after  my  first  entirely  sleepless 
night,  my  father  appeared  and  handed  me  Holthoff's 
letter,  which  he  had  opened,  saying,  "  Here,  read — 
you  can  see  for  yourself  what  your  good  friend  thinks 
of  your  disgraceful  behaviour  with  that  rascal 
Lassalle."  He  then  left  me.  I  read  the  letter  upon 
which  Ferdinand  and  I  had  built  so  many  hopes.  It 
was  the  answer  to  my  letter  written  at  Wabern.  He 
advised  me  in  heaven's  name  to  do  nothing  against 
the  wishes  of  my  parents.  Lassalle  was  not  a  fit 
husband  for  any  girl  of  good  family  !  This  was 
Lassalle's  best  friend  !  The  one  on  whom  he  counted 
and  trusted  implicitly — my  best  friend  1 

If  we  had  him  against  us,  to  whom  should  we  turn 

142 


HOLTHOFF'S  DUPLICITY 

for  help?  Oh,  if  I  had  only  been  able  to  show 
this  horrible  letter  to  Lassalle  yesterday,  he  would  at 
least  know  what  to  expect  from  his  friend.  I  heard 
later,  as  soon  as  he  had  received  my  letter,  Holthoff 
went  to  my  uncle  in  Berlin,  talked  the  matter  over  with 
him,  and  then  wrote  to  me  in  the  manner  described. 
My  uncle  had  assured  him  that  my  family  would 
never  consent  to  this  insane  marriage  ! 

So  Holthoff  made  up  his  mind  to  become  a  turn- 
coat. 

The  words  of  Ulrich  von  Hivtten  out  of  Lassalle's 
"Franz  von  Sickingen"  ran  sadly  through  my 
brain : 

"  Sieh  !  Herr,  von  Freunden  das  erfahren  miissen, 
Denen  man  stets  mit  willigem  Gemiit 
Und  freier  Liebe  hingegeben  war,  das  schmerzt  hart !  " 

The  dreadful  hours  and  days  that  followed  were 
only  varied  by  the  entrance  of  my  father,  who  came 
to  ask  me  if  I  thought  better  of  it  all,  or  if  I  still 
intended  being  the  cause  of  his  losing  his  position, 
and  of  bringing  all  my  family  into  disgrace.  To  this 
I  always  gave  the  same  answer,  "  I  am  going  to  marry 
Lassalle."     Then  I  sat  in  the  dark  alone. 

They  then  had  recourse  to  other  measures.  They 
sent  my  younger  brothers  to  me  (I  was  very  fond 
of  one  of  them).  They  were  instructed  to  tell  me 
that  I  should  entirely  ruin  their  careers  if  I  persisted 
in  marrying  this  dreadful  "  revolutionist."  My  apathy 
made  me  insensible  to  their  attacks,  and  I  was 
absolutely  indifferent  to  all  the  dramatic  scenes,  and 
the  weepings  and  wailings  of  my  mother. 

To-day,  as  then  in  my  loneliness,  I  ask  myself  what 
could  have  been  the  precise  reason  for  all  this  exhibi- 
tion of  malicious  anger  at  the  idea  of  my  marriage 
with  Lassalle  ?  I  have  never  been  able  to  find  any 
satisfactory  answer.  I  presume  that  my  cousin 
Dr.  Arndt  was  at  the  bottom  of  it  all.  Lassalle  had 
not  taken  enough  notice  of  his  threatening  words, 
"  I  will  remember  this,"  when  he  turned  him  out  of 

143 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

the  Workmen's  Union,  and  now  this  mole  was 
busy  underground  digging  a  pit  wherein  to  trap  the 
lion. 

One  night  I  heard  a  gentle  scratching  at  my 
door,  like  one  of  the  dogs  I  was  so  fond  of.  It  was 
no  dog,  but  my  faithful  The'rese. 

She  whispered  through  the  closed  door,  "I  am 
only  able  to  come  to  you  because  every  one  is  asleep. 
All  intercourse  is  forbidden,  gnadiges  Fraulein,  and 
his  Excellency  says  that  any  one  leaving  the  house 
will  be  shot.  I  felt  I  must  let  you  know  that  Herr 
Lassalle  has  left  Geneva.  I  know  it  for  certain. 
What  is  to  be  done  now  ?  " 

The  news  came  upon  me  like  a  thunderbolt ! 
"For  heaven's  sake,  Th^rese,  go  and  find  out  all 
you  can,  and  come  and  tell  me  at  night." 

She  then  stole  away,  and  I  was  alone  in  my 
despair. 

Ferdinand  had  left  Geneva  and  deserted  me  !  The 
words  echoed  through  my  soul  again  and  again,  and 
my  heart  became  tortured  by  doubts. 

"  Has  he  given  me  up  ?  And  has  Holthoff  per- 
suaded him  of  the  impossibility  of  his  undertaking  ? 
My  God!  My  God!  What  shall  I  do?  What 
shall  I  believe?" 

I  suddenly  realised  how  little  we  really  knew  each 
other.  He  perhaps  knew  me,  as  it  was  easy  to  fathom 
"  the  child," — but  I  him  !  I  had  only  seen  him  those 
few  months  in  Berlin,  and  then  in  the  short  glorious 
days  at  Wabern.  What  had  I  not  heard  of  his  love 
episodes  ?  Perhaps  I  was  only  one  of  these.  Perhaps 
it  was  not  worth  his  while  to  fight  such  a  hard  battle 
for  "  the  child ! "  I  have  never  felt  myself  so  small 
and  worthless  as  on  that  dreadful  night  No  further 
news  reached  me.  I  heard  and  saw  no  more  of 
Therese. 

My  blood  boils  within  me  when  I  remember  how 
abominably  we  both  were  treated.  My  father  kept 
back  all  Lassalle  s  letters,  while  Lassalle  was  under  the 

144 


RENOUNCING  LASSALLE 

impression  that  they  all  reached  me.  On  reading  his 
letters  toHolthoff,  published  intheSor?~ows  of  Lassalle, 
I  realised  what  underhand  methods  were  used  in 
order  to  deceive  me  (the  weaker)  and  to  drive  him 
(the  stronger)  to  extreme  measures. 

The  morning  following  the  terrible  night  when 
Therese  had  brought  me  the  news  of  his  departure, 
my  father  entered  the  room  and  exclaimed  in  a 
triumphant  voice,  "  So,  now  you  are  free !  Your 
miserable  lover  has  deserted  you.  No  doubt  he  was 
afraid  of  me,  for  I  have  summoned  the  authorities 
to  my  aid,  and  soldiers  are  now  in  the  house  and 
garden.  As  Ambassador  this  is  easy  for  me.  The 
coward  has  thought  wiser  to  fly." 

My  heart  bled  at  every  sentence  uttered. 

"  How  do  you  know  this  ? "  I  asked  tremblingly. 

"  I  know  everything  he  does,"  was  the  reply,  "  but 
I  hear  from  Holthoff  that  he  has  persuaded  Lassalle 
to  give  up  the  whole  affair." 

I  was  again  left  alone,  and  in  my  humiliation  and 
anguish  the  following  questions  arose  in  my  mind  : — 

"  What  can  you  be  worth  yourself,  if  no  one 
seems  to  give  your  happiness  a  pitying  thought  ?  If 
Ferdinand  can  give  you  up  so  easily  after  you  have 
made  such  a  sacrifice  as  to  return  to  your  parents, 
trusting  entirely  to  his  guidance  and  strength,  then 
give  yourself  up,  sacrifice  your  happiness  and  every- 
thing else,  for  you  are  not  worth  it." 

Next  morning,  when  the  usual  question  was  asked 
me,  my  despicable  weakness  gained  the  upper  hand 
and  I  gave  in.  I  uttered  the  fateful  words,  "  Very 
well,  I  give  it  up.  I  renounce  Lassalle  in  order  that 
all  of  you  may  be  happy." 

The  whole  family  rejoiced  at  this,  but  I  stood 
by  perfectly  apathetic. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  my  condition.  In  my 
father's  eyes  I  was  transformed  from  a  hellish  creature 
into  an  ideal  daughter,  but  his  praises  left  me  as 
indifferent  as  did  his  curses.     It  was  only  at  this  crisis 

145  L 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

that  they  suddenly  noticed  how  ill  and  wretched 
I  looked,  and  summoned  a  doctor.  He  examined 
me  in  the  presence  of  my  mother,  as  they  were  afraid 
of  leaving  me  alone  with  any  one  ;  they  surmised,  and 
correctly,  that  I  would  have  grasped  any  chance  and 
trusted  myself  to  any  stranger  who  would  help  me 
to  escape.  Any  one  would  have  understood  me  better 
than  my  own  people.  The  doctor  diagnosed  great 
nervous  depression,  and  advised  change  of  air. 

The  idea  was  welcomed  by  the  whole  family, 
and  that  very  evening  I  was  transported  to  the  other 
side  of  the  lake.  This  journey  has  always  appeared 
to  me  ridiculous.  They  feared  that  which  I  secretly 
hoped,  namely  that  Lassalle  or  some  of  his  com- 
panions would  carry  me  off  by  force.  If  they  had 
only  done  so ! 

However,  nothing  happened.  I  was  taken  in 
pitch  darkness,  wrapped  up  in  countless  shawls  and 
veils,  to  a  boat  manned  by  gendarmes,  and  rowed 
with  the  greatest  precaution  across  the  lake,  accom- 
panied by  my  sisters  fiance^  Count  Kaiserling.  I 
was  quite  indifferent  as  to  the  length  of  the  journey, 
or  where  I  landed. 

My  family  awaited  us  in  Bex,  and  it  was  only 
on  arrival  there  that  I  realised  that  Lassalle  had 
lost  another  opportunity.  I  was  still  with  my  dread- 
ful parents  1 

Nevertheless,  I  hoped  against  hope.  I  fancied 
every  workman  I  passed  in  a  blue  blouse  might  be 
a  messenger  from  Lassalle  bringing  me  a  sign  of  life. 
Then  again  I  lost  heart,  and  in  the  many  weary  hours 
that  ensued  my  doubts  returned,  and  I  felt  sure  he 
had  deserted  me. 


146 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Things  were  thus  in  our  household,  and  with  me, 
when  one  day — when  I  was  sitting  at  the  window  in 
my  customary  pitiful  condition— I  saw  three  people 
coming  towards  the  hotel ;  my  father,  Dr.  Arndt, 
and  Yanko !  So  my  father  had  sent  Dr.  Arndt  to 
Berlin  to  fetch  him  !  The  sight  of  him  aroused  deep 
feelings  of  compassion  within  me. 

A  moment  later  he  was  at  my  feet. 

"  Will  you  take  me  ? "  he  sobbed. 

"  You  ?  "  I  exclaimed,  horrified.  "  I  wrote  to  you 
from  Wabern  telling  you  whom  I  wanted.  Noth- 
ing is  changed  since  then.  My  wish  is  to  marry 
Ferdinand  Lassalle." 

He  told  me  later  that  I  looked  almost  uncanny — 
deathly  white,  in  a  long  black  dress,  as  if  in  mourning 
for  my  happiness.  He  kissed  my  icy  cold  hands,  and 
tried  to  console  me,  and  I  felt  once  more  that  he  was 
my  only  friend,  and  one  who  would  protect  me 
against  my  wretched  parents. 

The  next  moment  he  said,  "I  won't  let  them 
worry  you  any  more,  and  will  protect  you  as  I 
promised  grandmamma." 

Then  for  the  first  time  tears  came  to  my  relief. 

He  continued  to  tell  me  that  shortly  before  his 
departure  from  Berlin,  after  Dr.  Arndt  had  told  him 
everything  they  had  been  doing  to  me,  he  had  sworn 
to  sacrifice  all  for  my  happiness,  even  to  giving  me  up 
to  Lassalle,  but  to  throw  dust  in  my  parents'  eyes, 
he  suggested  my  openly  announcing  my  engagement 
to  himself. 

147 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

I  shook  my  head. 

"But  do  you  not  see,  beloved,  that  this  is  the 
only  plan  that  can  save  you  ?  It  is  only  in  such 
circumstances  that  they  would  trust  you  to  me,"  and 
here  he  burst  into  sobs.  "  I  am,  and  must  be,  your 
faithful  Moorish  page." 

We  mingled  our  tears,  but  our  heavy  hearts  saw 
no  gleam  of  light  in  the  future. 

I  replied,  "  I  must  tell  you  in  spite  of  your  being 
so  good  and  noble,  that  the  day  I  see  Lassalle, 
nothing  will  part  me  from  him  again,  even  if  to  reach 
him  I  had  to  step  over  all  your  corpses — yours 
included.  This  is  the  truth,  and  I  have  never  lied 
to  you." 

Maybe  these  words,  uttered  passionately,  and 
revealing  the  depths  of  my  feeling  for  the  first  time 
to  him,  caused  him  to  pause  a  moment  Then  he  put 
his  arms  round  me  and  said  gently,  "  Even  then  you 
would  still  find  me  at  my  post  taking  care  of  you." 
After  this,  he  went  to  tell  my  parents  I  had  accepted 
his  proposal. 

At  this  period  matters  came  to  a  standstill.  It 
seemed  as  if  fate  was  taking  breath,  in  order  to  crush 
us  more  completely.  I  heard  nothing  more  from 
any  one,  but  received  a  short  letter  from  HolthofF  in 
which  he  exhorted  me  "  to  be  a  good,  dutiful  daughter, 
as  only  then  could  my  friends  return  to  me  with  love 
and  respect." 

What  I  had  done  to  lose  them — in  fact,  what  I 
had  done  to  all  these  people — is  still  an  enigma  to  me. 

How  could  HolthofF  write  like  this  to  me  when 
at  the  very  time  he  was  receiving  the  most  heart- 
rending letters  from  Lassalle — letters  that  would  have 
moved  a  stone  ? 

I  must  quote  certain  of  these  letters,  for  they 
alone  can  give  an  adequate  idea  of  Lassalle's  sufferings, 
which  were  even  greater  than  mine. 

Oh,  if  my  false  friend  Holthoff  had  only  then  sent 

148 


LASSALLE'S  LETTERS 

me  one  line  to  let  me  know  what  my  lover  was  going 
through,  how  very,  very  different  everything  might 
have  been. 

The  first  letter  ran  as  follows : — 

Dear  Friend — Why  did  I  not  follow  your  advice  and  elope 
with  Helene  before  her  parents  knew  I  was  there  ? 

It  would  have  been  so  easy  when  we  were  at  Berne ;  but 
Helene  wished  to  try  and  conciliate  her  parents  before  taking 
drastic  measures.     This  appealed  to  my  loyalty  and  I  gave  in. 

This  is  my  reward  !  On  my  arrival  here  yesterday  I  found 
everything  in  a  turmoil.  Helene — who  had  arrived  a  few  hours 
before  me — had  told  everything,  and  her  father  was  absolutely 
furious.  The  mother  might  have  relented,  but  he  prevented 
this.  I  will  pass  over  their  disgraceful  behaviour  to  myself ;  I 
only  saw  the  mother  for  a  few  moments  at  a  friend's.  I  have 
not  seen  the  father  at  all,  but  he  sent  two  of  his  relatives  to  me 
with  the  most  absurd  threats.  Their  behaviour  to  Helene  is 
simply  disgraceful.  She  is  locked  up,  no  one  is  allowed  to  enter 
her  room,  and  she  is  utterly  wretched.  However,  she  is  as 
determined  as  I  am,  and  I  am  resolved  at  all  costs  not  to  give 
way.  This  affair  may  end  badly,  as  nothing  will  induce  me  now 
to  retrace  my  steps.  The  only  person  who  can  avert  a  real 
catastrophe,  and  perhaps  bring  matters  to  a  happy  conclusion, 
is  yourself.  Will  you  come  here  for  Helene's  and  my  sake  ? 
Telegraph  your  reply,  if  you  will. — Your  half-demented, 

F.  Lassalle. 
Geneva,  Aug.  4. 

In  this  letter,  he  begins  to  see  how  foolishly  he 
acted  in  giving  me  back  to  my  parents,  but  he  was 
still  hopeful  in  spite  of  his  presentiments  of  mis- 
fortune, and  trusted  in  the  loyalty  of  his  friend. 
What  foolish  creatures  we  both  were,  and  how  blind 
we  had  been  I 

A  proof  of  Lassalle's  foolishness  was  that  during 
these  miserable  days  he  wrote  a  desperate  letter  to 
the  Countess,  full  of  his  love  for  another  woman,  and 
bewailing  her  loss.  Oh  !  incomparable  blindness ! 
Could  he  not  guess  that  this  would  enrage  his  friend 
against  that  other  woman  ?  Also  that  it  would 
hasten  on  the  tragedy  ? 

Part  of  the  letter  ran  as  follows  : — 

149 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

Although  I  have  fought  with  myself  during  twenty-four 
hours,  I  now  give  in,  and  come  to  pour  out  my  sorrows  on  the 
bosom  of  my  best  and  dearest  friend.  I  am  so  unhappy  that 
for  the  first  time  for  fifteen  years  I  am  crying.  My  criminal 
stupidity  is  now  my  martyrdom.  I  am  so  utterly  broken  that 
I  feel  justified  in  begging  you  to  come  here  and  comfort  me. 
You  are  the  only  being  in  the  world  able  to  understand  what 
it  really  means  for  my  fortitude  to  give  way  absolutely.  What 
has  come  to  me  ?  I,  the  universal  adviser  and  helper,  to  be 
thus  begging  for  advice  and  help  !  My  conscience  upbraids  me, 
and  I  am  resolved  to  make  up  for  my  stupidity  at  all  costs. 
Should  I  not  be  successful  in  this  matter — and  I  have  my  doubts 
— I  shall  be  destroyed. 

His  second  letter  to  Holthoff  is  still  more  heart- 
rending. The  first  time  I  read  it,  and  even  when  I 
read  it  now,  I  am  overcome  by  the  thought  that 
Lassalle's  self-reproach,  which  grew  stronger  and 
stronger,  always  turned  on  the  fact  that  he  had 
delivered  me — so. weak  and  easily  influenced — to  the 
unyielding  will  of  my  father. 

It  really  seems  as  if  some  supernatural  being  had 
placed  a  veil  of  blindness  over  every  one  of  us,  for 
not  one  person  taking  part  in  our  tragedy  seems  to 
have  been  able  to  see  clearly.  Each  person  seems 
to  have  done  the  wrong  thing.     It  ran  : 

Dear  and  FArraFur  Friend — I  have  scarcely  the  necessary 
self-control  to  give  you  a  clearer  report  than  my  letter  of 
yesterday.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  my  state  of  mind.  It 
is  an  appalling  thing  to  confess,  but  I  am  not  ashamed  to  own 
that  I  have  wept  a  great  deal  during  the  past  few  days.  The 
ever -recurring  thought,  and  one  which  drives  me  almost  to 
desperation,  is,  that  it  is  all  my  own  fault.  I  had  the  bird  in 
my  hand  for  a  whole  week ;  and  could  have  flown  with  her  to 
Italy  and  by  this  time  we  should  have  been  man  and  wife,  but 
she  wrote  to  me  so  touchingly  and  nobly  at  Rigi  Kaltbad  (I 
will  show  you  her  letter),  begging  me  to  try  all  amicable  means 
before  resorting  to  extremes.  In  fact,  this  was  one  of  her  con- 
ditions. When  I  got  to  Berne,  I  made  other  suggestions,  but 
she  was  still  so  hopeful  of  gaining  our  point  in  the  usual  con- 
ventional way,  and  the  most  she  feared  was  a  few  altercations, 
therefore  I  had  not  the  heart  to  over-persuade  her.  Tu  Dieu ! 
If  I  had  insisted  (here  all  the   Laocoon   serpents  sting   me), 

150 


LASSALLE'S  LETTERS 

she  would  have  followed  me  to  Italy  without  the  slightest 
hesitation.  But  I  wished  to  spare  her  all  self-reproach ;  she 
was  so  certain  of  success,  that  if  I  had  eloped  with  her,  she 
might  have  always  fancied  we  should  have  managed  the  other 
way  after  all.  I  hardly  knew  what  to  reply  when  she  said  to 
me,  "  Let  us  begin  in  my  way  ;  if  it  fails,  we  can  always  resort 
to  other  measures.'1  Then,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  did  not  know — 
before  our  present  separation — how  dearly  I  loved  Helene  ! 
Until  then,  I  took  my  lightly- won  joy  very  calmly,  was  quite 
pleased  at  the  idea  of  getting  married,  but  had  no  idea  what 
deep  root  this  love  had  taken.  No  lion  has  ever  lashed  himself 
into  such  fury  as  I  when  I  think  of  my  arrant  folly. 

Enough  of  this.     The  present  situation  is  as  follows  : — 

I  have  not  been  able  to  see  the  father  at  all.  Helene's 
premature  confession  to  her  mother  made  this  impossible. 
Helene  is  kept  a  prisoner.  I  was  on  the  point  of  appealing  to 
the  authorities  about  it,  when  I  heard  that  she  had  been  taken 
away  from  here  secretly — they  say  to  a  brother-in-law  at  Culm. 

During  the  moments  I  saw  her  yesterday,  she  mentioned 
that  this  was  one  of  her  father's  plans. 

Last  night,  her  father  sent  two  of  his  relations  to  me,  who 
told  me  Helene  was  gone.  This  may  only  be  a  trap,  but 
since  then  my  inquiries  have  elicited  contradictory  reports. 
And  although  I  have  had  the  house  surrounded  by  spies,  I 
have  not  been  able  to  get  definite  information.  No  letter  of 
mine  could  reach  her,  and  she  is  unable  to  communicate  with 
me.  The  only  word  I  have  received  from  her  is  a  letter  that 
was  handed  me  on  my  arrival.  The  father  seems  to  rule  the 
household  with  a  rod  of  iron,  and  the  flood-gates  of  his  wrath 
are  opened  on  me.  I  was  idiot  enough  to  meet  him  straight- 
forwardly,— hence  his  victory,  and  my  most  deserved  defeat. 

In  these  circumstances,  it  may  be  days  before  I  find  out 
where  she  is.  What  I  most  fear  is,  that  in  time  they  will 
succeed  in  bending  her  to  their  wishes — her  will  is  so  weak  and 
vacillating.  The  letter  she  wrote  me  after  the  great  altercation 
with  her  father  was  full  of  determination  (you  shall  read  it  in 
Berlin),  but  I  fear  this  will  not  last  if  she  hears  nothing  more 
from  me. 

What  is  to  be  done  now  ?     I  don't  know  ! 

Of  one  thing,  however,  I  am  convinced,  namely,  I  must  have 
Helene  !  Workmen's  Unions,  politics,  science,  prison — all  else 
pales  before  the  one  thought  of  how  to  regain  her.  Can  you 
suggest  a  way  ?  Can  you  undo  a  fool's  work  ?  If  you  can 
do  anything  for  me,  HolthofF,  I  will  thank  you  on  my  knees. 
Remember  by  all  that  is  holy,  that  you  must  be  entirely  on 

151 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

my  side.  I  am  fighting  for  a  woman  who  loves  me  madly,  and 
whom  I  adore  more  than  she  loves  me.  I  don't  mind  what 
sacrifices  I  make,  or  how  long  I  have  to  wait,  and  would  win 
her  even  by  committing  a  crime.  I  am  indescribably  unhappy, 
dear  Holthoff.  When  a  nature  as  strong  as  mine  loses  all 
self-control,  it  is  thrice  wretched.  I  weep  whilst  I  write.  I 
am  losing  all  pride,  all  faith  in  myself,  and  am  like  a  broken 
reed.     I  beg  you  to  write  to  me  immediately : 

1st.  What  you  will  do  to  help  me  gain  the  father's  consent. 

2nd.  How  you  will  help  me  in  other  ways. 

3rd.  Find  out  where  she  is  ! 

If  we  could  be  together  once  more — if  only  for  two  hours — 
I  would  fly  to  Caprera,  where  Garibaldi's  chaplain  would  marry 
us  at  once,  even  without  papers,  which  would  make  matters 
irrevocable. 

Fool  that  I  have  been ! 

Write — where  to  I  hardly  know,  as  my  movements  depend 
on  the  news  I  receive. 

Write  to  Basle — -poste  restante,  for  I  may  be  going  to 
Carlsruhe  on  the  15th  of  August,  in  connection  with  Helene's 
affairs.  I  can  think  of  nothing  else.  I  could  fetch  your  letter 
there,  or  get  it  sent  on  to  me.  Good-bye  Holthoff!  I  am 
desperately  miserable — a  thing  no  one  has  ever  heard  me  say 
yet !     Sympathise  with  me. — Your  F.  L. 

P.S. — If  you  should  happen  to  discover  her  address  and 
write  to  her,  do  enclose  this  letter ;  it  will  help  her  to  know 
all  that  is  in  my  heart. 

It  is  strange  that  Holthoff  seems  to  have  made 
no  reply  to  these  first  three  letters,  which  breathed 
the  anguish  of  a  wounded  heart,  for  the  following, 
which  was  the  third  one  he  wrote  to  his  "dearest 
friend,"  received  no  reply,  nor  were  any  of  the 
telegrams  which  he  begs  for  so  persistently  ever  sent. 

Dear  Friend — The  only  satisfaction  is  to  write  to  you,  for 
you  are  the  only  one  who  can  help  me. 

You  can  have  no  conception  of  my  state  of  despair.  Three 
days  ago  I  would  have  laughed  at  any  one  who  would  have 
told  me  that  I  should  love  Helene  as  I  do.  She  is  my  only 
thought,  and  to  weep  is  my  only  consolation.  Although  I  am 
a  stranger  here,  I  have  managed  to  place  a  cordon  of  spies 
round  the  house,  who  are  watching  night  and  day.  Their 
reports  all  tally  in  saving  she  is  still  here. 

152 


LASSALLES  LETTERS 

One  ray  of  hope  at  least ! 

Herr  von  Donniges  was  ridiculous  enough  to  threaten  me 
with  banishment,  whilst  I  have  requisitioned  the  police.  Thank 
heaven,  there  is  a  Radical  Government,  and  a  prominent 
official  has  promised  me  news  to-morrow.  If  I  get  it,  and  it  is 
reliable,  I  intend  appealing  through  a  lawyer  to  the  President, 
in  order  to  set  Helene  free. 

No  one  would  recognise  me,  for  passion  has  conquered  my 
reason.  I  often  feel  inclined  to  kill, Herr  von  Donniges,  to 
break  into  his  house  armed  ;  then  reason  comes  to  the  fore,  and 
shows  me  how  absurdly  my  imagination  is  running  away 
with  me. 

If  Helene  is  still  here,  things  can  be  remedied.  I  shall 
leave  the  place,  and  then  her  imprisonment  would  be  at  an 
end,  and  the  task  of  bringing  her  to  me  would  be  carried  out 
by  my  friends.  The  question  is — Is  she  still  there  ?  Friend, 
dear  friend !  can  you  not  help  me  ?  Do  come.  You  can 
tell  Herr  von  Donniges  that  it  is  dangerous  to  drive  me  to 
extremes,  for  I  should  certainly  be  an  ennemi  terrible. 

I  intend  to  stop  at  nothing — and  will  risk  my  life  to  re- 
gain the  woman  I  lost  through  my  incredible  stupidity.  If 
you  can  think  of  any  way  of  helping  us,  my  whole  life  is  at 
your  service ;  it  should  be  yours  at  any  moment. — Your 

F.  L. 

P.S. — You  will  scarcely  be  able  to  influence  by  letter,  but 
you  might  by  speaking  to  him.  Is  it  possible  for  you  to 
come  ?  If  so,  let  me  hear  by  two  telegrams — one  addressed 
here  to  Geneva,  Pension  Beauvais ;  the  other  to  Basle,  Bureau 
telegraphique — post  restante, 

Friday  night,  10  o'c. 

Saturday  morning  early — 

The  various  complications  nearly  drive  me  mad !  In  my 
normal  condition  I  could  get  her  back,  even  if  her  father  hid 
her  in  the  moon ;  but  I  am  so  pulled  down  by  the  last  six 
months,  that  I  feel  incapable  of  fighting.  I  fear  Helene's 
character  will  not  be  strong  enough  to  resist  the  pressure  put 
upon  it,  but  apart  from  that,  think  of  her  sufferings !  I  am  in 
such  despair,  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  All  day  long  I  hear 
the  sweet  trembling  voice  in  which  Helene  uttered  her  last 
words  to  me.  If  you  see  the  remotest  chance  of  helping  us — 
do  so,  no  matter  what  sacrifice  it  would  cost  you  to  leave 
Berlin.  I  implore  you  to  do  it !  I  know  it  is  needless  to  im- 
press upon  you  the  necessity  of  silence. — Your  F.  L. 

153 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

It  seems  as  if  Holthoff  deigned  to  answer  at  last. 
This  I  gather  from  Ferdinand's  fourth  letter,  of  which 
I  only  give  a  short  extract,  as  it  deals  with  persons 
and  things  of  a  private  nature,  and  mentions  people 
on  whom  Ferdinand  had  vainly  pinned  his  hopes. 

Dear  Holthoff — I  have  just  received  your  letter  of  the 
7th.  If  I  had  to  judge  you  by  it,  you  would  never  hear  from 
me  again.  The  only  sensible  remark  in  it  is,  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  retract.  The  advice  you  wrote  to  Helene  at  Berne, 
telling  her  not  to  hurry  matters,  was  the  very  worst  you  could 
have  given.  Unfortunately,  we  acted  in  this  way  when  the 
only  wise  thing  would  have  been  to  carry  Helene  off  to  Italy 
from  Berne,  and  make  her  my  wife.  The  fact  of  our  not 
having  hurried  means  the  wreckage  of  my  life.  I  could 
manage  if  I  could  only  get  one  letter  to  reach  Helene,  but  she 
is  so  closely  watched  that,  up  to  now,  this  has  been  impossible. 

I,  who  have  always  managed  to  correspond  as  I  pleased,  in 
workhouses  and  prisons,  have  not  yet  been  able  in  eight  days 
to  get  a  single  note  to  reach  her.  Even  visitors  are  not 
allowed  to  see  her.     It  is  reported  that  she  has  left. 

On  Thursday  morning  Herr  N.  told  me,  on  his  word  of 
honour,  that  she  had  left  that  morning — and  Saturday  evening 
I  was  able  to  see  her  with  my  own  eyes  and  to  exchange 
greetings. 

Nevertheless  they  continue  to  tell  every  one  that  she  is  gone. 

They  now  say  she  is  at  some  watering-place  in  the  north ; 
before  that  they  said  she  was  with  relations  at  Culm.  It  is 
possible,  perhaps,  that  she  did  leave  on  Saturday  evening,  but 
certain  indications  seem  to  prove  that  she  is  here  still. 

You  see,  dear  friend,  nothing  remains  for  me  but  to  dash 
my  head  against  a  wall.  This  time,  you  may  be  sure,  it  will 
be  either  the  head  or  the  wall  that  will  break.  Since  last 
evening,  I  feel  strangely  apathetic  and  quiet,  although  yester- 
day I  broke  down  under  the  weight  of  my  sorrow.  To-day, 
again,  I  am  firm  as  iron,  and  the  strength  of  my  will  has 
returned.  I  now  intend  playing  this  game  to  the  end  with  all 
the  imperturbability  of  a  chess  player. 

I  have  sworn  to  myself  that  the  day  I  realise  that  Helene  is 
lost  to  me  for  ever,  1  will  put  a  bullet  through  my  head.  I 
have  also  sworn  this  to  my  friends,  who  all  know  I  am  in  bitter 
earnest.     This  thought  has  restored  my  equilibrium. 

I  have  looked  back  on  my  life,  and  find  that  it  has  been 
big,  brave,  and  brilliant  enough.     A  future  age  will  know  how 

154 


LASSALLE'S  LETTERS 

to  do  me  justice ;  and  I  shall  either  marry  Helene  or  cease  to 
exist.  In  either  case,  I  shall  have  ceased  to  suffer.  Anyway 
there  is  nothing  to  lose.  The  thought  of  this  calms  me  and 
restores  my  strength. 

I  shall  not  be  able  to  spare  much  time  in  trying  to  win 
Helene.  I  have  neither  time  nor  wish  to  defend  myself  in 
Berlin  against  criminal  lawsuits.  Neither  can  I  spare  time 
to  go  to  gaol  for  six  weeks,  for  in  the  meantime  I  might  lose 
her.  True,  I  might  find  bail  in  Berlin,  but  that  would  not  be 
of  much  use  to  me,  for,  until  I  have  won  Helene,  I  feel  quite 
unable  to  meet  the  demands  that  are  crowding  on  me  from  all 
sides. 

Until  then,  I  can  think  of  nothing  else ;  I  am  not  made 
to  play  the  fool,  of  whom  much  is  expected,  but  who  falls  short 
of  the  mark. 

I  am  not  one  who  can  patiently  wait  the  development 
of  events. 

Although  I  am  no  longer  young,  I  feel  that  I  could  fight 
months  and  years  to  gain  her — if  every  day  only  brought  some 
definite  plan  I  could  work  at  for  this  end. 

The  day  that  my  resources  are  exhausted,  I  shall  cease  to 
interest  myself  in  the  matter.  To  suspend  it  and  work  in  the 
meantime  at  other  things  would  be  an  impossibility  to  me. 

Therefore  most  probably  it  will  be  settled  in  October  one 
way  or  another.  The  thought  of  this  is  a  wonderful  relief  to 
me.     The  game  will  be  brief  and  fierce. 

My  plan  is  as  follows,  and  I  know  that  in  any  circumstances 
you  are  incapable  of  betraying  it.  The  day  after  to-morrow  I 
am  going  to  Carlsruhe  to  meet  friends,  and  to  move  heaven 
and  earth  to  induce  the  King  of  Bavaria  to  intercede  for  me 
with  her  father.  You  will  smile  at  this  romantic  project,  and 
I  myself  must  laugh  at  it.  But  where  all  ordinary  means  fail, 
romantic  ones  step  in. 

During  my  absence  all  arrangements  will  be  made  and  will 
appear  as  if  I  had  not  left.  You,  of  course,  will  show  nobody 
this  letter,  and  I  will  strive  to  get  into  touch  with  her.  A 
letter  from  her  would  settle  everything. 

Let  us  hope  that  this  could  be  more  easily  effected  in  my 
absence.  If  both  plans  fall  through,  then  I  shall  return  there 
from  Munich,  in  order  to  play  the  last  and  tragic  act  in  the 
drama. 

It  is  just  possible,  but  not  very  probable,  that  I  might 
return  to  Berlin  first,  and  see  whether  any  other  resources  are 
available  before  resorting  to  extreme  and  decisive  measures.  It 
may  be  that  we  shall  never  meet  again. 

155 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

Ominous    words  I       Like     so  many    others    in 

Lassalle's   desperate   letters,   they  seem  to   breathe 

the   presentiment  of   his    death !  They  make   one 
shudder ! 

If  she  be  elsewhere,  and  I  find  out  where,  a  ray  of  hope  will 
re-enter  my  heart ;  I  should  have  preferred  her,  of  course,  to 
be  here  ;  but  no  matter  where  she  be,  I  have  enthusiastic  friends 
throughout  Germany,  Belgium,  and  France  ready  to  help  me. 
I  have  managed  to  get  together  in  a  very  short  time  more 
excellent  means  of  help  than  I  should  have  been  able  to  collect 
during  weeks  in  other  cities.  She  could  never  have  been 
imprisoned  and  treated  as  she  is  by  her  despotic  parents  any- 
where else.  In  fact,  being  of  age,  no  other  parents  would  dare 
to  behave  as  they  do — it  is  criminal  ! 

I  have  already  been  promised  assistance  by  the  most  pro- 
minent member  of  the  local  Government  here,  and  the  Procura- 
teur  General  is  prepared  to  enter  the  house  by  force,  and  set  her 
free,  if  necessary. 

We  are  not  yet  agreed  as  to  the  best  way  I  can  manage  to 
be  present  at  this  forcible  visite  domiciliaire,  and  without  my 
presence  I  should  not  care  for  it  to  take  place. 

If  I  were  not  there,  she  would  be  under  the  influence  of  her 
parents,  and  she  would  never  give  a  free  answer  to  the  questions 
put  to  her  by  the  Procurateur  General  as  to  whether  she  wishes 
to  quit  her  parents'*  home,  whether  she  is  there  by  her  own  free 
will,  or  under  pressure,  whereas  my  presence  would  give  her 
courage. 

We  dare  not  risk  the  failure  of  this  plan,  as  this  would 
augment  ill-feeling.     I  therefore  prefer  to  give  it  up  ! 

In  this  fourth  letter  he  speaks  of  yet  another 
plan,  namely,  to  try  and  induce  Geheimrat  von 
Boeckh  to  intercede  with  my  father.  Lassalle 
fancied  this  plan  might  be  of  great  assistance. 
Above  all,  he  wanted  Holthoff  to  write  to  my 
mother,  and  Boeckh  to  my  father,  to  inform  them 
exactly  who  Lassalle  was. 

The  misrepresentations  of  Dr.  Arndt  and  others 
led  Herr  von  Donniges  to  believe  that  Lassalle  was 
a  mere  adventurer — a  sort  of  spy  of  Bismarck,  nay, 
even  a  criminal  who  had  been  in  gaol  on  various 
occasions ;  whereas  the  only  sentences  passed  against 

156 


BOECKH'S  LETTER 

him  were  for  political  speeches  and  publications  in 
the  press. 

It  seems  that,  in  response  to  this  request,  Holthoff 
did  not  write  to  my  mother,  but  communicated  with 
Boeckh.  This  letter,  which  possesses  a  certain 
interest  as  bearing  on  the  subsequent  catastrophe, 
may  or  may  not  have  been  seen  by  my  father. 

Holthoff  s  double  game  seems  to  me  incompre- 
hensible, for  while  seeming  to  act  in  accordance  with 
Lassalle's  wishes,  he  was  doing  his  best  to  malign 
him  to  my  people. 

Before  quoting  Boeckh's  letter,  I  should  like  to 
mention  that  the  Gneist  who  is  spoken  of  was  the 
famous  barrister,  Dr.  Rudolph  Gneist,  Boeckh's  son- 
in-law — my  father's  most  intimate  college  friend — 
and  my  godfather.  I  do  not  know  what  part  he 
played  in  the  whole  tragedy,  nor  anything  about  the 
papers  in  question. 

Boeckh's  letter  was  as  follows  : — 

Dear  Sir — In  transmitting  you  herewith  the  papers  received 
from  Gneist,  I  am  in  somewhat  of  a  dilemma.  I  have  been 
requested  to  write  to  Herr  von  Donniges  and  express  an  opinion 
upon  a  family  matter  regarding  Dr.  Lassalle.  I  consider  that 
the  interference  of  a  stranger,  or  even  of  a  friend,  in  family 
matters,  is  always  more  or  less  a  doubtful  proceeding.  If  I 
were  to  take  any  step  which  might  be  construed  as  interference 
on  my  part,  Heir  von  Donniges  would  be  quite  justified  in 
resenting  it. 

But  there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  express  my  opinion 
of  Herr  Lassalle  to  you  quite  freely,  and  at  the  same  time  allow 
you  to  make  what  use  of  it  you  may  think  fit. 

I  have  known  Lassalle  for  many  years,  and  our  acquaintance 
became  more  intimate  through  Alexander  von  Humboldt, 
who  had  a  great  opinion  of  him,  and  who  strove  to  protect 
him  against  various  attacks.  I  consider  Herr  Lassalle  a 
most  eminent  man,  possessed  of  varied  and  deep  knowledge 
of  most  subjects,  of  remarkable  penetration  and  judgment, 
and  with  an  unusual  power  of  expression. 

As  regards  his  political  work,  I  feel  sure  he  acts  absolutely 
in  accordance  with  his  own  deep  convictions,  that  he  is  nobody's 
tool,  but  pursues  his  aim  with  entire  independence  of  feeling, 

157 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

fearing  no  sacrifices,  and  braving  every  kind  of  danger.  He 
has  been  reproached  by  cautious  people  for  holding  too  rigidly 
upon  his  own  course,  without  looking  to  the  right  or  the  left. 

He  has  many  pleasing  characteristics,  and  I  confess  that  I 
was  always  attracted  by  his  animated  and  spirited  conversation. 

Let  these  remarks  suffice  both  to  you  and  Herr  Lassalle, 
who  is  already  fully  aware  of  my  opinion  of  him,  and  my  attitude 
of  mind  towards  him,  as  I  have  both  written  and  spoken  to 
him  in  a  similar  sense. — Believe  me,  dear  sir,  etc., 

A.  Boeckh. 
Berlin,  23rd  August  1861. 

I  give  another  letter  of  Lassalle's,  written  in  a 
despairing  mood,  after  my  enforced  departure  from 
Geneva  to  Bex.  He  was  as  desperate  at  not  know- 
ing my  whereabouts  as  I  was  concerning  him,  when 
I  was  informed  that  he  had  left  Geneva,  and  when, 
believing  these  false  reports,  I  acted  with  such  miser- 
able weakness. 

Dear  Friend — If  there  is  an  atom  of  love  or  interest  in 
your  heart  for  me ;  if  one  spark  of  pity  glows  there,  you  can 
never  be  so  stony,  so  inhuman,  as  to  refuse  my  request.  I  had 
hardly  despatched  my  long  letter  to  you  of  this  morning,  and 
here  I  am  again  writing  to  you  this  evening,  in  floods  of  tears  ! 
My  seeming  calm  of  this  morning  broke  down  under  terrible 
news.  My  sufferings  are  indescribable.  I  hardly  know  if  it 
would  not  be  better  to  throw  myself  into  the  lake,  and  thus 
end  these  weeks  of  torment  which  have  proved  fruitless 
after  all. 

You  know  me,  dear  Holthoff,  you  know  that  I  am  a  man ; 
but  where  has  my  courage  departed  to  ?  I  suffer  so  hideously  ; 
this  agony  would  be  sufficient  to  atone  for  a  murder. 

I  am  in  despair.  It  is  strange  that  I,  who  in  the  face  of  the 
greatest  obstacles  always  entertain  the  wildest  hopes  of  success, 
and  feel  myself  only  elated  by  them,  should  have — from  the 
beginning  of  this  catastrophe — seen  only  the  dark  side,  and  felt 
myself  powerless  to  act. 

I  am  Lassalle  no  longer — not  even  his  shadow.  I  am 
doomed  to  sink.  I  know  it !  I  am  howling  for  Helene  as  a 
lioness  robbed  of  her  cubs.  I  feel  annihilated,  crushed,  thrice 
broken. 

If  any  one  had  told  me  that  I — at  my  age — should  be  seized 
by  such  a  wonderful  passion  which  exceeds  the  rhapsodies  of 
the  wildest  poets,  I  should  have  scoffed  at  him  !     Let  us  get  to 

158 


LASSALLE'S  LETTERS 

the  point.  My  terrible  state  of  mind  is  owing  to  news  that 
reached  me  three  hours  ago. 

A  new  man-servant,  who  three  days  ago,  on  Monday  last, 
entered  the  Donniges1  household,  has  been  won  over  to  our  side, 
and  states  that  Helene  is  not  at  home — she  left  last  Sunday. 

My  blood  froze  when  I  heard  the  news,  and  I  could  hardly 
drag  myself  home. 

Gone !  And  I  know  not  where  !  What  misery  lies  in 
this  word  "gone"  !  Here  she  is  of  age;  in  other  places  still 
a  minor. 

I  have  succeeded  in  bringing  here  my  most  shrewd  and 
cautious  friend,  who  cannot  come  to  Germany.  I  have  engaged 
the  very  best  lawyer  here,  etc.  etc.     All  these  are  mere  details. 

But  gone — and  not  to  know  where ;  that  is  like  a  thunder- 
bolt !  This  maims  and  crushes  one  like  lightning.  How  long 
must  I  wander  seeking  on  the  face  of  the  earth  ?  I  quiver  to 
the  very  centre  of  my  being  when  I  think  of  the  heartrending 
misery  I  shall  still  have  to  endure.  These  last  days  have 
taught  me  what  pain  means,  and  what  cowards  pain  can  make 
of  us. 

I  ask  you  two  things,  Holthoff,  and  if  you  refuse  me,  then 
you  have  less  humanity  in  you  than  a  stone. 

Here  followed  a  foolish  request  regarding  my 
relations,  etc.,  the  gratifying  of  which  would  have 
done  no  good. 

Mercy!  dear  Holthoff,  write  to  me  at  once;  it  would  be 
base  of  you  to  lose  a  day.  It  is  possible  that  the  news  I  heard 
may  be  false,  but  this  time  I  fear  it  is  true,  as  there  are  several 
indications  of  this. 

What  a  terrible  existence  I  have  evoked  by  my  loyalty  and 
consideration.  If  I  had  only  thought  of  myself,  Helene  would 
to-day  be  my  wedded  wife.  And  now  I  must  roam  through 
Europe  in  order  to  trace  her.  The  bare  idea  of  this  must  drive 
one  mad.  In  your  letter  you  ask,  "  Am  I  sure  of  Helene  ? " 
Oh,  dear  friend,  you  have  no  idea  of  the  proofs  of  love  she  has 
given  me,  and  yet  she  is  too  weak  of  will  to  allow  one  to  feel 
sure  of  her. 

She  is  not  created  for  struggles — she  is  too  soft  and 
yielding. 

If  she  could  give  me  up  (Hell  lies  in  the  very  thought),  I 
could  not  even  console  myself  with  the  thought  that  she  was 
not  worthy  of  me.  I  love  her  far  too  madly  to  be  able  to 
console  myself  with  abstractions.     Is  it  not  a  proof  of  her 

159 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

weakness  that  I  have  not  even  received  a  line — a  word  from 
her  ?  Can  she  be  so  helpless  as  to  be  unable  to  send  me  even  a 
line  ?  And  supposing  she  is  so  timid,  and  allows  herself  to  be 
coerced,  what  would  happen  in  weeks — months  hence  ?  Will 
she  not  become  absolutely  crushed  ?  If  she  gives  me  up — oh  ! 
the  thought  poisons  my  blood. 

Write  at  once.     I  am  inexpressibly  miserable. — Your 

F.  L. 

Yes,  she  was  as  helpless  as  that,  and  it  is  a  wonder 
to  me  that  his  spies  and  friends  did  not  testify  to 
this. 

His  last  letter,  written  to  Holthoff  from  Geneva, 
which  I  will  quote  later,  seems  to  breathe  such  un- 
happiness  and  presentiment  of  death,  that  no  heart 
capable  of  feeling  pity  could  remain  unmoved  by  it ; 
mine  is  wrung  by  it  even  to-day.  How  well  he  fore- 
saw all  that  would  happen  to  me,  "the  terrible 
consequences  to  Helene." 

He  begged  for  a  delay  of  three  months,  and,  use- 
less as  the  idea  may  seem,  his  reason  was  to  gain  time, 
and  to  deliver  me  from  the  clutches  of  my  persecutors. 
Even  if  I  had  not  given  way  to  the  wishes  of  my 
family,  I  could  never  have  survived  those  three 
months  in  the  state  of  weakness  and  ill-health  I  was 
then  in. 

This  last  letter  to  Holthoff  ran  thus  : 

The  news  I  have  just  received  is  far,  far  worse  than  any  I 
have  had  before.  I  thought  I  was  in  despair  yesterday,  but  it 
is  only  to-day  that  I  know  what  despair  really  means.  Listen  ! 
Every  one  has  gone — the  father,  the  mother,  the  sister,  and 
Helene.  Only  the  children  are  at  home.  The  father  left  on 
Sunday  with  her  and  her  sister.     The  mother  stayed  behind. 

The  Wallachian — whom  Helene  had  refused  in  Wabern — 
arrived  here  last  night  by  the  last  train.  I  suppose  he  came 
because  of  this,  or  because  the  family  telegraphed  to  him.  The 
mother  left  with  him  this  morning  at  seven.  Everything  seems 
to  point  to  the  fact  that  somewhere  or  other  they  mean  to 
marry  Helene  to  this  Wallachian,  whom  I  shall  then  kill  in  a 
duel,  or,  if  he  refuse  my  challenge,  shall  shoot  down  in  the 
street  like  a  mad  dog. 

In  these  altered  circumstances,  I  beg  you,  Holthoff,  to  do 

160 


LASSALLE'S  LETTERS 

me  a  service.  Write  to  the  father ;  demand  in  her  name  and 
in  mine  only  one  concession,  namely  to  grant  us  three  months' 
delay,  during  which  time  he  will  not  force  Helene  to  marry, 
and  give  us  a  chance  of  winning  his  consent.  Represent  to  him 
that,  if  he  persists  in  hurrying  matters,  tragedy,  and  even 
crime,  may  be  the  result.  I  would  kill  the  man,  and  fly  with 
her  to  America.  I  only  want  him  to  give  me  three  months. 
If  by  that  time  I  have  not  gained  his  consent,  he  can  do  as  he 
likes.  Everything  is  gained  if  he  will  only  give  me  these  three 
months.  I  shall  find  means  to  persuade  the  King  of  Bavaria 
not  only  to  intercede  for  me,  but  to  issue  a  positive  command 
to  him  to  give  her  to  me  in  marriage.  There  are  men  enough 
in  the  nation  who  would  do  everything  possible  to  save  me,  if 
they  knew  that  I  risk  my  all  in  this  affair. 

The  King  could  be  persuaded,  but  for  this  I  must  have 
these  miserable  three  months''  respite. 

Write  to  him  in  this  sense,  make  it  clear  to  him  that  the 
delay  is  only  needed  in  order  to  gain  his  consent ;  represent  to 
him  the  awful  consequences  his  refusal  may  have  for  his 
daughter. 

If  he  grants  my  request,  he  will  gain  time  himself  and  avoid 
a  hasty  act  which  might  bring  endless  trouble  upon  his  family. 
I  will  persuade  the  King.  If  all  is  well,  I  hope  to  be  in  Munich 
before  a  week  is  out. 

If  you  or  Boeckh  can  give  me  letters  for  Munich  which  may 
be  useful  for  my  purpose  —  all  the  better !  Don't  lose  a 
moment  in  writing  to  Herr  von  Donniges !  Life  and  Death 
may  depend  on  an  hour. 

Answer  to  Carlsruhe — poste  restante.  I  am  going  there 
to-morrow. — Your  desperate 

F.  L. 


161  M 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

The  most  disastrous  thing  Lassalle  could  do,  now 
followed ;  he  left  Geneva ;  left  me,  broke  up  all  his 
plans  and  undertakings  ;  plans  which,  in  his  eyes — so 
blinded  by  despair — seemed  practical  enough,  yet 
which  reacted  so  fearfully  upon  me  on  account  of  his 
absence,  that  they  were  the  immediate  cause  of  the 
collapse  of  everything. 

Now  "friends"  in  his  camp,  and  the  family  in 
mine,  had  a  free  hand. 

Even  Yankos  zeal  cooled  when  he  heard  that 
the  "beloved  had  deserted  me."  He  began  to  make 
fun  of  him,  and  to  speak  slightingly  of  his  love.  He 
said,  "  The  man  you  love,  who  has  in  his  hands  the 
proof  of  your  love,  is  a  coward  ;  he  throws  you  over 
and  runs  away ;  but  I,  whom  you  deserted  and  thrust 
aside,  hasten  to  you,  and  put  myself  and  my  love  at 
your  feet." 

And  I,  ignorant  of  all  that  Lassalle  was  doing 
for  us,  could  only  weep  and  be  silent 

One  thing  astonished  me;  I  had  renounced  my 
happiness — was  so  severely  punished  for  my  weak- 
ness, and  had  done  that  which,  according  to  my 
parents,  was  the  right  course  to  adopt  in  the  eyes 
of  the  world,  yet  on  every  occasion  I  was  made  to 
feel  that  the  "world"  ostracised  me,  and  made  me 
responsible  for  the  scandal  which  had  been  created  in 
the  first  instance  by  my  father's  senseless  conduct  in 
dragging  me,  with  loud  curses,  across  the  quiet  street, 
to  imprisonment  in  his  own  house.     His  demand  to 

162 


LASSALLE'S  LETTERS 

the  Swiss  authorities  in  his  capacity  as  Ambassador 
to  be  supplied  with  police  and  soldiers  to  guard  his 
daughter  against  her  lover ;  my  secret  transportation 
over  the  lake  at  midnight  in  the  gendarmes'  boat ; 
and  the  various  tragic  events  that  followed,  were  the 
real  cause  of  it  all. 

I  was  made  to  suffer  for  it. 

My  sensitive  nature  noticed  how  in  our  "circle," 
for  whom  the  sacrifice  had  been  made,  many  a  hand 
now  clasped  mine  less  warmly — many  a  door  was  held 
but  half  open  that  formerly  was  left  wide  open  to 
me  in  heartiest  welcome.  I  was  indifferent  to  it  all 
in  my  suffering,  and  then,  as  now,  regarded  it  all  with 
mixed  feelings  of  compassion  and  contempt. 

•  Fragments  of  other  letters  from  Lassalle  to  me 
still  exist ;  protestations  of  love,  appeals  for  help,  im- 
ploring me  to  be  true  and  firm — advice,  threats,  but 
as  none  of  these  ever  reached  me  they  were  unavailing. 

I  will  quote  some  of  these,  but  do  not  think  he 
would  ever  have  written  as  he  did,  if  he  had  not  been 
influenced  by  the  Countess's  friends,  who  appeared 
in  Geneva  with  her,  and  above  all,  by  the  "good 
Countess  "  herself. 

He  writes : 

My  sufferings  are  beyond  description  !  You  have  made  me 
unspeakably  wretched ;  the  mad  love  I  now  give  you  makes  all 
former  love  pale.  I  love  you  to  distraction  since  last  Wednesday 
night. 

Be  courageous ;  I  am  always  near,  even  when  we  are  parted. 
If  you  remain  true  to  me,  no  power  on  earth  shall  succeed  in 
tearing  us  asunder — I  think  and  do  nothing  that  is  not  for  you. 
Triumph  !  My  love  for  you  surpasses  everything  that  poetry 
and  legend  have  ever  said  of  love.  Remain  firm,  et  je  me 
charge  du  reste. 

u  It  is  impossible,"  he  writes  among  other  things 
on  the  10th  of  August : 

It  cannot  be  true  what  they  tell  me,  that  you  have  given 
me  up.  It  can  only  be  a  ruse  on  your  part.  It  is  impossible 
that  all  your  vows  are  only  perjury,  that  you  carry  weakness 

163 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

to  such  an  extent.  You  have  no  right  to  break  all  the  promises 
you  gave  me — no  right  to  repay  me  thus  for  my  delicacy  of 
feeling  in  returning  you  to  your  mother.  You  have  no  right 
to  have  allowed  me  to  act  as  I  have  done  on  the  strength  of 
your  promises  of  firmness.  Subjective  happiness  had  rendered 
me  relatively  indifferent,  but  suffering  has  dispersed  all  this, 
and  my  love  has  sprung  forth  in  mighty  and  terrifying  strength. 
Helene !  If  you  really  could  be  untrue  to  me,  you  would  not 
be  worthy  of  all  I  am  suffering  for  you.  Console  me  with  one 
line !  The  thought  that  you  could  give  me  up  brings  me  near 
to  madness.  As  Lesley  says :  "  Then  everything  would  be  a  lie, 
and  nothing  in  the  world  would  be  worth  believing  in." 

Helene !  Beloved,  adored  with  all  the  agony  of  despair ! 
Give  me  a  line !     Tell  me  you  are  true. 

Again,  a  thing  strikes  me  which  does  not  seem  to 
have  occurred  to  any  of  those  who  have  written 
about  our  sad  story.  Where  were  these  fragments  of 
Lassalle's  letters  to  me  found  ?  They  could  never 
have  come  to  my  father's  house,  otherwise  they 
would  have  been  found  after  his  death  with  all  the 
others — even  the  earlier  ones  of  the  Rigi  period.  I  can 
only  surmise  that  Ferdinand — who  was  absent  from 
Geneva — had  entrusted  these  letters  to  the  Countess 
to  give  to  me.     Of  course  I  never  received  them. 

I  have  now  related  everything  that  happened 
during  the  time  of  my  stay  in  Bex,  and,  as  far  as  we 
can  gather  from  his  letters,  all  that  happened  to 
Lassalle  too. 

As  soon  as  my  father  was  sure  that  Lassalle  had 
left  Geneva,  we  returned  there,  I  again  under  the 
strictest  surveillance.  I  remember  very  little  about 
those  days,  and  believe  that  nothing  of  any  importance 
occurred. 

Then  a  mighty  blow  fell  upon  me.  My  father 
entered  my  room  and  with  a  cruel  smile  handed  me 
a  piece  of  paper  on  which  the  following  words  were 
written : — 

Fraulein  !  I  have  come  here  to  arrange  a  matter  which  is 
both  unconventional  and  unfortunate.     I  feel  that  my  inter- 

164 


COUNTESS  HATZFELD 

vention  is  not  only  justified,  but  is  a  duty  I  owe  to  my  long 
friendship  with  Lassalle,  to  the  full  confidence  with  which  he 
has  placed  this  matter  in  my  hands,  and,  as  regards  yourself, 
to  the  letter  you  addressed  to  me  a  short  time  ago.  You  will 
see  that  after  all  that  has  happened,  it  is  even  more  to  your 
interest  than  to  that  of  Herr  Lassalle  that  your  liaison  with 
him  should  be  broken  off  in  the  most  decisive  manner.  This 
can  only  be  possible  through  my  intervention,  and  I  have 
decided  to  undertake  this  most  unpleasant  duty  out  of  pure 
friendship  to  him.  For  this  purpose  I  propose  that  you  should 
come  to  me,  either  to-day  or  to-morrow  afternoon  between  two 
and  four  o'clock.  Any  hesitation  might  spoil  all.  I  consider 
it  beneath  my  dignity,  Friiulein,  to  assure  you,  that  you  need 
fear  no  scenes  of  any  kind,  but  I  can  express  the  conviction 
that  the  step  I  am  taking  is  one  that  will  deserve  your  thanks. 

Sophie,  Countess  Hatzfeld. 

Every  drop  of  the  old  Viking  blood  rose  in  me ; 
my  pride  came  to  the  fore.  I  was  as  much  enraged 
as  my  father  was  at  the  impertinence  of  the  woman 
who  dared  to  write  thus  to  me.  Both  he  and  Yanko 
approved  of  my  indignation. 

"  What  shall  you  answer,"  Yanko  asked. 

I  took  a  card  and  wrote  upon  it,  "  JLettre  repie" 
and  gave  it  to  the  messenger  who  had  brought  the 
letter,  telling  him  to  deliver  it  as  a  receipt  for  the  same. 

This  act  of  the  Countess  was  one  of  the  most 
calamitous  among  the  many  things  that  led  up  to  our 
fatal  climax. 

Did  she  know  what  she  had  done  ? 

From  this  moment  there  arose  in  me  distrust, 
indignation  and  defiance  against  all  those  friends  of 
Lassalle  who  had  congregated  in  Geneva  during  his 
absence. 

My  rage  against  the  Countess  was  boundless,  and 
it  never  abated.  She  well  knew  how  Lassalle  loved 
me,  what  he  suffered ;  and  she  ought  never  to  have 
dared  to  so  insult  the  woman  he  held  so  high  and  for 
whom  he  was  fighting  at  the  present  moment  with 
the  courage  of  a  lion  to  his  last  drop  of  blood. 

If  he  had  had  any  idea  of  it,  I  am  convinced  he 
would  have  shot  her  down. 

•    165 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

I  little  guessed  that  at  this  time  Ferdinand  was 
in  Munich,  and  that  there,  as  well  as  in  other  places, 
he  was  moving  heaven  and  earth  to  attain  our  ends. 
I  heard  of  all  this  many  years  later. 

He  tried  to  obtain  a  letter  in  Munich  from  the 
Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs  to  my  father.  He  also 
wanted  the  King  (my  former  playmate)  to  issue  a 
formal  command  to  my  father  to  give  me  in  marriage 
to  Lassalle  immediately. 

He  travelled  to  Mayence  to  try  and  win  Bishop 
Ketteler  to  our  side,  to  induce  him  to  baptize  him 
and  marry  us.  In  short,  he  went  through  fire  and 
water,  and  I  did  not  know  it,  and  believed  him  faith- 
less, as  he  very  soon  had  to  believe  me.  Can  one 
imagine  the  terrible  tragedy  of  this  situation  ? 

What  I  now  relate  is  written  with  my  heart's 
blood.  Every  step  forward  for  me  meant  despair  and 
torments  of  hell !  .  .  . 

I  suddenly  heard  one  day  Lassalle  was  in  Geneva 
again!  My  faithful  Th^rese  brought  me  the  news. 
Could  it  be  true  ?  I  was  now  more  rigidly  guarded 
than  ever,  yet  at  the  news  my  courage  rose.  I 
remembered  all  Ferdinand's  consoling  words,  how  he 
told  me  he  would  fetch  me  away  from  the  altar  if  I 
stood  there  with  another,  and  many,  many  other 
things  which  inspired  me  with  new  hope. 

My  family,  for  I  will  not  lay  the  awful  guilt  at 
my  father's  door  alone,  heaped  new  miseries  upon  me. 

My  father  came  to  me  and  said,  almost  pityingly, 
that  Lassalle  had  sent  a  man  to  ask  me  to  return  his 
letters  and  presents.  No  !  That  could  not  be.  My 
glorious  lover  could  never  act  so  meanly  1  My  father 
insisted,  and  when  I  handed  him  the  letters  and 
souvenirs,  weeping  bitterly,  he  said,  "Write  a  line 
with  these  which  I  will  dictate  to  you." 

I  wrote  I  know  not  what — but  as  I  put  down  on 
the  paper  at  his  dictation  something  utterly  alien  to 
my  heart,  it  occurred  to  me  that  if  I  signed  it  with 
a  pet  name  Ferdinand  had  given  me,  he  must,  and 

166    * 


TORMENT  AND  DESPAIR 

would,  understand  !     So  beneath  the  dictated  lines  I 
wrote,  "  The  Child.  " 

To  this  day  I  do  not  know  if  he  ever  saw  what  I 
had  been  compelled  to  write,  and  understood  the 
dumb  prayer  of  "  The  Child."  I  cannot  tell  whether 
my  father  had  arranged  the  whole  thing  himself,  and 
kept  the  letters  and  presents,  or  if  it  was  a  machina- 
tion of  the  Countess. 

On  several  occasions  I  was  made  to  give  written 
declarations,  and  the  demand  was  always  preceded 
by  the  words :  "  You  have  sacrificed  yourself  to  us 
once.  Now,  after  having  done  a  great  thing,  you 
cannot  draw  back  before  small  ones  ! 

I  who  had  heard  nothing  from  Ferdinand,  in  spite 
of  his  presence  in  Geneva,  considered  myself  entirely 
deserted  by  him. 

Completely  broken  in  spirit  and  body,  I  was 
coward  enough  to  do  everything  they  wished. 

Among  other  things  was  a  letter  of  which  Holthoff 
wrote : 

I  do  not  doubt  that  the  letter  to  me  was  written  under 
coercion.  It  was  either  a  ruse  on  her  part,  or  she  wrote  under 
pressure.  Nevertheless,  it  is  always  possible  that  she  has  been 
carried  away  by  a  wave  of  filial  love. 

No !  There  was  no  question  of  filial  love.  The 
real  motives  were  inexcusable.  Yet  the  blind  con- 
fidence in  Lassalle's  power,  the  subterfuge  employed 
by  my  parents,  were  just  as  reprehensible  as  my 
weakness  and  laisser- alter. 

Holthoff  appears  to  have  become  less  severe  in 
his  judgment  since  that  letter,  and  even  to-day  I  am 
pleased  to  know  it.  Perhaps  he  had  looked  at  things 
from  a  worldly  standpoint,  from  the  point  of  view 
also  of  the  anonymous  author  of  the  Sorrows  of 
Lassalle,  with  whose  ideas  I  greatly  sympathise, 
when  he  says : 

As  one  can  perceive  in  a  former  part,  and  finds  here  con- 
firmed, Lassalle  was  of  the  opinion  that  his  political  position 
had  influenced  the  attitude  of  Helene's  parents  towards  him. 

167 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

If  this  had  been  the  case,  it  was  quite  comprehensible,  for 
Lassalle's  career  was,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  a  peculiar  one  for 
the  son-in-law  of  an  Ambassador.  The  allusion  to  the  difference 
of  religion  and  the  engagement  of  Helene  to  the  Wallachian, 
were  no  doubt  both  of  them  quite  valid  reasons. 

The  ostensible  and  social  reasons  given  by  Helene's  father 
against  the  marriage  with  Lassalle,  were  those  he  drew  from 
the  moral  life  of  the  latter,  and  the  liaison  which  had  lasted 
several  years  and  which  could  not  be  denied.  Lassalle's 
antecedents  hardly  offered  a  guarantee  of  any  happiness  to  any 
girl,  and  other  fathers  than  Helene's  might  have  felt  justified 
in  drawing  the  same  conclusions  as  he  did.  If  his  actions  were 
based  on  certain  moral  convictions,  no  one  had  the  right  to 
criticise  the  means  he  employed ;  indeed  there  would  be  no 
foundation  for  any  criticism. 

Helene's  memoirs  have  for  the  first  time  thrown  more  light 
on  the  subject. 

Who  can  therefore  judge  and  condemn  others  ? 

Helene  is,  of  course,  not  impartial,  and  one  must  not  lose 
sight  of  this  fact. 

Once  more  Lassalle  had  taken  a  foolish  step, 
devoid  of  all  knowledge  of  human  nature.  He  had 
persuaded  the  Minister  von  Schwind  to  send  with 
him  as  intercessor  a  certain  lawyer,  Dr.  Haenle,  who 
was  a  perfect  stranger  to  all  of  us. 

I  willingly  admit  that  this  lawyer  had  the  best 
intentions,  but  what  could  he  possibly  arrange  ? 

He  had  never  seen  me  before,  and  was  now  to 
deal  with  the  deepest  feelings  of  my  wounded  heart. 

He  certainly  had  the  greatest  respect  for  my  father 
(one  must  remember  the  role  my  parents  played  in 
the  intellectual  life  of  Munich).  As  to  Lassalle — 
he  had  been  attached  to  him  by  "Superior  orders" 
in  a  most  intimate  matter,  without  much  previous 
acquaintance  or  sympathy  with  him. 

Behind  the  scenes,  that  is,  without  my  knowledge, 
another  friend  of  Lassalle's,  Colonel  von  Rustow,  had 
entered  into  negotiations  with  my  father.  What 
part  he  played  to  Lassalle's  face  I  do  not  know ; 
anyhow,  I  found  he  was  a  most  devoted  friend  to  the 
"good  "  Countess,  and  therefore  shared  her  prejudices 

168 


A  DICTATED  LETTER 

against  our  union.  In  this  capacity  he  presented 
himself  to  my  father.  His  name  was  quite  unknown 
to  me. 

•  One  day  my  father  said  to  me  that  a  gentleman 
wished  to  speak  to  me ;  that  he  had  brought  me  a 
letter  from  Lassalle. 

A  ray  of  hope  seemed  to  enter  my  heart,  but  then 
my  father  continued  sternly :  "  You  cannot  see  this 
gentleman,  and  as  for  the  letter,  you  must  give  it  to 
me  unopened.  What  use  would  it  be  to  reopen  a 
correspondence  with  the  miserable  cast-off  lover  of 
Countess  Hatzfeld,  whom  you  have  already  given 
up  for  our  sakes  ?  It  would  only  lead  to  further 
insults." 

This  made  me  wince,  for  the  recent  insulting 
letter  of  the  Countess  was  still  fresh  in  my  memory. 

I  nodded  in  silence. 

My  father  left  the  room,  and  I  felt  utterly  crushed. 
Had  he  been  able  then  to  discover  no  other  way  but 
this  official  one  of  sending  me  a  letter  ? 

He  knew  quite  well  that  Therese  was  entirely 
devoted  to  both  of  us.  This  thought  tormented  me, 
and  passed  continually  through  my  brain. 

I  wrung  my  hands  in  impotent  despair.  Perhaps, 
after  all,  the  Countess — the  woman  to  whom  he  had 
given  his  whole  life — had  succeeded  in  influencing 
him.  Official  letters,  as  papa  said,  could  be  full  of 
insults. 

Oh  !     The  martyrdom  of  those  hours. 

My  father  soon  reappeared  with  new  demands. 
He  wanted  to  dictate  me  a  letter  to  Lassalle,  which 
was  to  contain  a  definite  refusal,  for,  as  he  said,  "  the 
man  must  be  informed  of  this." 

Once  more  1  revolted.  After  entreaties  and  tears 
on  my  side  and  arguments  on  his,  about  the  ruin  or 
salvation  of  my  family,  which  I  held  in  my  hands,  I 
gave  in. 

He  dictated  the  letter.     I  wrote  it. 

If  Lassalle  had  but  known  me  a  little  better  he 

169 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

would   have  understood  at   once  on  the   perusal  of 
such  a  letter  that  it  could  never  emanate  from  me. 
The  dictation  was  as  follows  : — 

Sir — Having  with  all  my  heart  repented  of  my  conduct,  and 
having  obtained  the  forgiveness  of  my  fiance,  Yanko  von 
Racowitza,  whose  love  and  confidence  I  have  entirely  regained, 
I  beg  to  state  of  my  own  free  will  and  inclination  that  there 
never  can  be  any  question  of  a  union  between  you  and  me ; 
that  I  sever  myself  entirely  from  all  connection  with  you,  and 
am  firmly  resolved  to  bestow  all  my  devotion,  love  and  constancy 
upon  my  fiance'. 

I  communicated  the  above  to  Herr  von  HolthofF  in  Berlin 
before  even  receiving  his  discouraging  letter. 

Helene. 

P.S. — I  must  request  you  to  return  me  the  letter  you  have 
already  received  from  me. 

Can  any  one  who  knew  me  imagine  for  a  moment 
I  could  write  such  a  letter?  Even  while  I  was 
penning  it  at  my  father's  dictation,  I  had  to  smile  at 
his  stupidity  in  supposing  it  would  ever  lead  to  the 
success  of  his  plans.  It  was  so  obviously  alien  to 
my  nature. 

Ferdinand,  who  was  so  at  home  in  our  classics,  would 
surely  be  reminded  of  the  scene  between  Wurm  and 
Luise  in  Kabale  und  Liebe,  and  realise  that  his 
Helene  was  in  a  similar  situation.  Had  he  been 
alone,  I  am  even  now  convinced  this  would  have  been 
the  case,  but  I  was  reckoning  without  the  influence 
the  Countess  and  his  other  "  friends  "  had  over  him ! 

The  anonymous  author  of  the  Sorrows  of 
Lassalle  seems  to  have  understood  me  better  than 
the  man  I  adored,  for  in  his  book  he  says : 

The  letter  roused  a  storm  of  indignation,  and  yet  every 
impartial  reader  could  see  clearly  that  in  trying  to  prove  too 
much,  it  proved  nothing  at  all,  except  indeed  the  coercion  under 
which  it  was  written. 

We  know  by  Helene's  letter  to  HolthofF,  written  in  Wabern, 
how  keenly  she  suffered  at  the  thought  of  the  unhappiness  she 
was  inflicting  upon  her  earlier  lover.  And  now,  where  the  roles 
are  changed,  is  it  likely  that  she  would,  in  such  a  brutal  manner, 

170 


THE  "SORROWS  OF  LASSALLE" 

dismiss  the  man  she  loved  so  well,  in  favour  of  this  rejected 
lover,  who  was  suddenly  brought  upon  the  scenes  once  more  ? 

If  Lassalle  had  retained  the  slightest  power  of  judgment,  or 
remained  calm,  he  must  have  realised  this  at  once.  Indeed, 
the  letter  might  have  been  a  powerful  weapon  wherewith  to 
prove  the  extent  to  which  his  beloved  was  deprived  of  all 
liberty  of  action  and  speech.  In  any  case,  it  need  never  have 
caused  the  slightest  uneasiness,  or  led  to  any  change  of  tactics. 

By  command  of  the  King,  an  interview  is  said  to 
have  taken  place  between  Lassalle  and  my  father,  and 
the  latter  was  unable  to  give  his  word  of  honour  that 
I  had  acted  of  my  own  free  will. 

At  this  stage  I  do  not  clearly  recollect  whether 
the  interview  took  place  before  or  after  the  letter 
was  written.  The  chief  point,  however,  is  how 
Lassalle  was  affected  by  the  reception  of  it. 

In  any  case,  he  did  not  abandon  all  hope,  for  after 
receiving  it  he  wrote  as  follows  to  a  friend  : — 

I  will  accept  anything,  provided  it  lead  to  the  possession  of 
Helene.  I  could  always  manage  the  father.  The  chief  thing  is 
to  arrange  an  interview  between  Helene  and  the  Countess  ;  the 
latter  will  make  her  aufait  with  everything,  and  even  show  her 
my  letters  without,  however,  giving  the  present  situation  and 
plans  away.  Just  now  Helene  has  been  talked  into  a  state  of 
filial  devotion,  and  I  consider  she  would  be  capable  of  betraying 
our  plans  to  her  father.  He,  of  course,  could  then  take  pre- 
cautions and  she  would  be  lost ! 

Nevertheless,  one  must  make  Helene  understand  that  help 
from  our  side  is  near  at  hand,  and  thus  inspire  her  with  courage. 
Half  her  actions  are  due  to  the  state  of  hopelessness  to  which 
she  has  been  reduced.  Why  do  I  expose  her  to  these  struggles  ? 
I  am  the  idiot,  that  is  certain ! 

According  to  this  letter,  he  must  have  had  an  idea 
of  the  terrible  power  of  suggestion  exercised  upon  me 
by  my  environment.  Even  to-day  my  sensitive  nature 
is  too  easily  influenced  ;  what  must  it  have  been  then, 
before  I  had  been  steeled  in  the  school  of  suffering  ? 

At  that  time  little  was  known  of  suggestion  or 
hypnotism ;   one  took  no  heed  of  such  things,  but 

171 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

Lassalle,  with  the  prophetic  eye  of  genius,  detected 
them  nevertheless. 

This  letter  is  the  last  link  in  the  chain  that  bound 
us  together,  the  last  expression  of  his  true  nature, 
unbiased  by  the  influence  of  his  surroundings. 

Now  the  most  awful  hour  of  all  arrived,  the  hour 
in  which  the  interview  took  place  between  Dr. 
Haenle,  Riistow,  and  myself,  over  which  my  father 
presided. 

I  was  told  the  King  had  sent  a  messenger,  to  whom 
I  was  to  repeat  that  which  I  had  decided.  In  order 
to  avoid  undue  influence  of  any  kind  which  would  be 
easy  enough  in  my  present  weak  state,  my  father  said 
he  would  be  present  to  support  me.  I  entered  the 
room  in  a  state  of  apathy,  not  unmixed  with  a  tinge 
of  ironical  contempt — and  faced  the  strangers.  At 
the  bottom  of  my  heart  I  was  counting  on  Haenle, 
but  four  cold  eyes  expressing  curiosity  and  dislike  met 
mine.     My  heart  contracted. 

Riistow  seemed  to  me  a  sort  of  devil,  influenced 
by  the  Countess,  the  other  one  a  mere  indifferent 
onlooker. 

I  have  been  reproached  with  having  uttered  the 
most  heartless  things  during  this  interview,  as  the 
conversation  was  taken  down  by  the  strangers  as 
deposition.  I  will  not  accuse  them  of  lying,  any  more 
than  I  will  attempt  to  excuse  myself.  Perhaps  those 
who  are  able  to  picture  themselves  in  my  situation 
can  understand  my  apparently  heartless  behaviour. 
Sullen  indignation  and  defiance  mingled  with  the 
despair  at  my  heart.  How  could  Lassalle  expose  me 
to  such  a  situation  and  allow  the  secrets  of  my  soul  to 
be  exposed  to  the  inquisition  of  such  men  —  who 
evidently  were  friends  of  the  Countess,  and  inimical 
to  me  ?  He  had  always  understood  me  so  well — even 
my  most  sensitive  feelings.  He  must  have  known 
that,  in  the  presence  of  my  father,  I  could  only 
express  that  which  he  wished  me  to. 

172 


LAST  LINKS  WITH  LASSALLE 

No  matter  what  happened,  that  hour  has  burdened 
me  with  a  terrible  sense  of  guilt,  for  out  of  it  arose 
the  duel  which  took  place  shortly  after. 

These  men  with  their  reports  broke  the  last  links 
that  united  me  to  Lassalle ;  at  one  stroke  they 
persuaded  him  of  my  unworthiness,  and  drove  him 
from  the  depths  of  despair  into  a  paroxysm  of  rage. 

Can  one  reproach  him  for  this?  Certainly  I 
cannot. 


173 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

Destiny  now  hurried  with  rapid  strides  towards  its 
appointed  goal. 

One  afternoon  I  sat  down  to  write  to  Dr.  Haenle, 
for  Yanko  had  promised  me  to  take  a  letter  to  him 
without  my  father  knowing  it ;  I  wanted  to  ask  him 
to  receive  me  alone,  so  that  I  could  at  last  open  my 
heart  and  speak  freely  to  one  of  Lassalle's  friends. 
I  hoped  that  after  this  interview  he  and  Yanko  would 
help  me  to  return  to  Ferdinand,  and  thus  escape  for 
ever  from  my  father's  house. 

Whilst  I  was  writing  this  letter,  which  might  have 
changed  everything — everything,  Yanko  entered ;  he 
approached  me  in  silence,  drew  my  hands  away  from 
the  paper,  and  in  reply  to  my  questioning  look  he 
said  softly,  "You  need  not  write  that  letter  now. 
I  shall  never  be  able  to  deliver  it.  Lassalle  has  just 
challenged  your  father  in  duel,  and  I  am  going  to  fight 
instead  of  him." 

Horrified,  and  scarcely  understanding  what  he 
meant,  I  looked  up  at  him,  but  he  simply  nodded 
and  went  out — leaving  me  alone  in  my  anguish — to 
join  the  other  men  who  were  consulting  with  my 
father  as  to  the  best  course  to  pursue. 

I  learnt  nothing  more. 

Great  excitement  reigned  in  the  household ;  that 
was  all  I  noticed. 

A  strange  feeling  took  possession  of  me.  It  never 
even  occurred  to  me  that  there  could  be  any  question 
in  regard  to  the  duel.     I  had  always  lived  in  a  com- 

174 


A  DUEL 

munity  where  the  duel  was  considered  the  only  proper 
means  of  avenging  an  insult  to  one's  honour.  During 
my  wretched  hours  there  came  a  moment  when  I 
almost  looked  forward  to  it  as  a  possible  means  of 
salvation,  for  I  was  so  convinced  (as  no  doubt1  was 
Lassalle  himself)  that  he  would  kill  poor  Yanko.  I 
knew  that  Lassalle  was  a  deadly  shot.  Once  he  had 
said  to  me,  jokingly,  "  Whoever  tries  to  rob  me  of  you 
I'll  shoot  straight  in  the  heart,  just  as  I  always  hit 
the  bull's  eye  on  a  target."  Yanko  had  hardly  ever 
held  a  weapon. 

I  now  believed  my  opportunity  had  arrived. 
Lassalle  will  kill  Yanko,  thought  I,  and  the  poor  boy 
will  be  brought  home  dead,  everything  will  be  in  the 
utmost  confusion.  I  will  escape,  and  at  last  I  will  be 
united  to  Ferdinand. 

My  heart  in  this  hour  fluctuated  between  hope 
and  grief.  I  carefully  prepared  everything  for  my 
flight,  burnt  all  my  letters,  packed  a  little  bag,  hoped, 
planned,  and  waited.  It  is  true  that  during  these 
hours  I  was  coldly  indifferent  to  the  suffering  and 
fate  of  my  unfortunate  Yanko.  Later  on,  I  was  able 
to  make  up  to  him  for  this. 

Just  now  my  whole  soul  winged  its  flight  towards 
my  idolised  Ferdinand. 

On  the  morning  of  the  28th  Yanko  left  me  after 
a  brief  farewell.  I  was  perfectly  certain  I  should 
never  see  him  alive  again  ;  then  followed  a  few  hours 
of  restless  waiting,  and  of  listening  for  the  carriage 
which  was  to  bring  home  the  "  corpse." 

Suddenly  there  was  a  sound  of  furious  driving — 
and  Yanko  stood  before  me. 

It  was  an  agonising  moment  for  me  when  I  beheld 
him,  whom  I  had  hoped  and  believed  as  dead,  standing 
alive  before  me. 

Few  words  were  said,  although  he  was  kneeling 
before  me  as  if  to  beg  for  mercy. 

He  had  hit  where  he  had  intended  to  spare  !  His 
very  ignorance  of  fire-arms  had  caused  the  disaster ; 

175 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

he  had  aimed  at  the  ground  in  order  to  avoid  his 
opponent ;  the  force  of  the  recoil  had  jerked  his  hand 
upwards,  and  ...  I  hardly  heard  him  ...  he  had 
hit  Lassalle  !     Wounded  ! ! ! 

Was  it  really  possible  ? 

And  what  now  ? 

.  .  .  Yes  .  .  .  What  now  ? 

The  thought  rang  in  my  soul,  "  How  can  I  get  to 
him  ?  The  Countess  will  be  there,  and  all  the  other 
men— who  hate  me — all  hate  me — all — all  I " 

I  sat  cold  and  apathetic  for  hours,  staring  at  the 
trees  in  the  park.  I  was  not  in  the  least  moved  by 
the  words  of  sympathy  and  consolation  that  the 
"living"  Yanko  poured  upon  me.  On  the  third 
day  he  came  to  me  again,  and  stammered  out  amidst 
his  sobs,  "  He  is  dead." 

I  pushed  him  from  me.  "Go — I  hate  you,"  I 
cried — then  the  whole  world  was  blotted  out. 

For  a  long,  long  time  afterwards  an  absolute  in- 
capacity for  feeling  anything  took  possession  of 
me. 

I  can  relate  no  more  of  this  period,  for,  after  that 
hour,  nothing  made  impression  enough  on  me  to 
remain  in  my  memory.  I  know  that  I  was  dragged 
to  Berne,  to  Munich,  but  why,  and  what  happened 
there,  I  know  not. 

I  only  remember  one  thing ;  in  the  depths  of  my 
heart  I  did  not  believe  in  Ferdinand's  death.  Years 
afterwards  I  said,  "  If  I  were  told  he  were  alive  some- 
where— anywhere  in  the  world — I  should  believe  it, 
and  go  to  find  him." 

Dreadful  times  followed.  All  the  venomous 
pamphlets  that  were  directed  against  me  by  the 
opposite  "party"  were  sent  to  me  by  revengeful 
friends — his  friends  ! 

Poor  things!  Our  souls  had  found  and  under- 
stood each  other  long  since. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  the  impression  I  made  on 
people    at    this    period    was    quite    uncanny.     The 

176 


A  REMARKABLE  LETTER 

anonymous  author  of  the  Sorrows  of  Lassalle 
wrote : 

"  One  of  the  people  participating  in  the  tragedy, 
thus  described  the  almost  uncanny  impression  that 
Helene  made  on  him.  Pale  as  death,  with  white  lips 
and  long  black  dress,  her  large  eyes,  seemingly  bereft 
of  soul,  were  fixed  on  space.  She  seemed  to  him  a 
ghost,  a  vampire,  or  one  of  those  legendary  living- 
dead  beings. 

"We  saw  her  but  for  a  few  moments.  She 
resembled  a  marble  bust  with  golden  hair, — a  nixie 
risen  from  the  grotto  of  Capri, — the  wife  of  a  Caesar, 
endowed  with  demoniacal  power." 

To  conclude  the  history  of  this  awful  tragedy  in 
my  life,  I  will  quote  the  portion  of  a  letter  written 
by  Lassalle  to  a  lady  who  has  remained  unknown,  as 
it  will  serve  to  give  an  absolute  description  of  his 
character.  Seldom  in  the  history  of  mankind  has  a 
human  being  so  completely  known  and  described 
himself  as  Ferdinand  Lassalle  does  here.  In  the  first 
part  the  letter  deals  with  the  aversion  the  lady  felt  for 
Countess  Hatzfeld  ;  the  second  part  ran  thus  : 

I  will  now  tell  you  what  I  understand  by  love.  If  a  woman 
wishes  to  love  me,  she  must  give  herself  to  me  entirely,  lose 
herself  completely  in  me,  and  expect  nothing  more  in  return 
than  a  portion  of  myself.  You  will  say  this  is  an  unequal 
exchange,  but  if  you  reflect  a  little  you  will  see  that  this  is  the 
usual  normal  difference  between  the  love  of  man  and]  that  of 
woman. 

A  man,  for  instance,  gives  a  portion  of  himself  to  the  state, 
or  to  science,  and  therefore  can  only  give  himself  partially  up 
to  love ;  whereas  a  woman  is  able  to,  and  ought  to,  give  herself 
up  entirely  to  it. 

If  this  is  a  general  rule,  how  much  more  shall  it  apply  to 
me  in  particular,  who  am  so  very  much  a  man  ?  I  have  been 
through  all  kinds  of  misfortune  and  trouble,  except  one,  which 
I  cannot  have,  and  never  will  allow  to  come  near  me,  and  this 
is  the  disturbance  of  the  harmony  of  my  inner  self. 

It  has  been  my  pride  and  my  greatest  happiness  to  keep 
this  intact.  Dispositions  like  mine  can  know  no  happiness  apart 
from  this  ;  therefore  I  must  do  my  best  to  keep  it.     Remember 

177  n 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

my  long  allusion  to  this  in  Hiitten's  speech  to  Maria ;  read  it, 
for  it  is  all  taken  from  my  deepest  and  most  personal  feelings. 

"  Willst  Spaltung  in  den  eig'nen  Busen  bringen  ?  "  etc. 
(Wilt  thou  bring  discord  now  within  thy  breast  ?  etc.) 

You  will  see  that  I  cannot  do  without  this  inmost  harmony. 
It  is  the  foundation  of  my  being,  the  strength  and  support  of 
my  life.  I  should  be  miserable  if  it  were  ever  disturbed.  I 
should  feel  annihilated  and  without  defence.  It  is  the  Alpha 
and  Omega  of  my  existence.  It  must  be  able  tc  console  me 
for  all  outward  struggles  and  conflicts,  and  compensate  me  for 
many  pleasurable  things  I  have  given  up. 

Whoever  wishes  to  love  me,  and  be  beloved  by  me,  must 
become  a  part  of  myself  and  be  in  absolute  harmony  with  me — 
like  what  I  like,  think  what  I  think,  and  become  united  with 
my  world  of  thought  and  feeling  in  all  things,  because  it  is 
clear  that,  should  this  not  be  the  case,  it  would  bring  discord 
into  the  very  centre  of  my  being.  Other  men  might  be  able  to 
bear  this,  but  not  I,  because  I  have  made  this  inner  harmony 
the  shield  and  protection  of  my  life.  I  will  not  argue  as  to  the 
justification  of  my  ideas,  I  only  know  that  it  is  the  case  with 
me,  and  that  I  cannot  alter  it. 

My  love  is  therefore  of  a  consuming  nature,  and  the  being 
who  loves  me,  if  not  absolutely  in  unity  with  me,  would  have 
to  be  remoulded  according  to  my  views.  If,  however,  the 
person  were  incapable  of  being  remoulded,  he  or  she  must  rely 
upon  his  own  individuality,  and  give  up  loving  me.  Should  I 
never  find  love  under  these  conditions,  I  prefer  to  do  without 
it,  and  wander  loveless  upon  a  barren  world.  At  least  I  should 
avoid  inward  discord,  and  keep  my  Samson's  locks,  which  are 
the  source  of  my  strength,  until  the  end  of  my  days. 

I  have  never  pretended  that  it  is  any  great  privilege  to  love 
me.  In  fact,  I  wrote  to  you  lately  that  it  is  a  most  thankless 
task.  As  I  have  said  before,  whoever  wishes  to  love  me  must 
do  it  in  my  own  way,  and  become  identified  with  my  inward 
self,  just  as  Semele  melted  in  the  arms  of  Jupiter.  No  doubt, 
for  such  people  who  are  not  so  constituted,  such  love  possesses 
but  little  attraction.  Nevertheless  it  is  the  only  way  to  reach 
my  heart. 

If  you  remember,  I  purposely  did  not  wish  to  draw  you  into 
any  love-affair  with  me  because,  very  naturally,  you  might 
regard  such  love  as  egoism.  I  never  took  the  initiative ;  you 
yourself  felt  and  declared  it  to  be  an  inward  necessity  of  your 
own.  I  never  should  have  taken  the  initiative  because  I  know 
that  such  love  as  mine  can  give  but  little  joy,  and  that  there  are 

178 


A  REMARKABLE  LETTER 

very  few  women  ready  to  give  themselves  up  entirely  to  anything 
so  serious.  I  never  made  any  secret  to  you  of  my  relationship 
with  the  Countess,  but  told  you  from  the  first  that  she  is,  and 
always  will  be,  my  best  friend.  In  fact,  your  love  for  me  dates 
almost  from  your  knowledge  of  this  liaison,  and  from  the 
speeches  I  made  in  Cologne.  My  peculiarities  were  never 
concealed  from  you,  therefore  you  can  never  say  I  deceived  you. 

I  believe  you  could  love  me  in  any  way,  in  spite  of  my 
great  friendship  with  the  Countess.  My  attachment  to  her 
partakes  more  of  the  nature  of  the  affection  of  a  son  to  a 
mother,  a  brother  to  a  sister,  a  friend  to  a  friend,  and  a  father 
to  a  daughter.  It  has  something  of  all  these,  but  it  has 
nothing  of  that  of  a  lover  to  the  beloved.  Therefore  it  need 
stand  in  no  woman's  way  any  more  than  Pylades  did  to  the 
lover  of  Orestes. 

Apparently  you  are  unable  to  put  up  with  all  this,  there- 
fore, without  any  recrimination  or  reproach,  the  fact  remains 
that  we  cannot  love  each  other. 

You  seem  to  upbraid  me  in  your  letter  for  not  having 
abandoned  hope;  you  also  seem  surprised  that  I  am  annoyed 
at  things  which  you  have  said  now  and  again.  The  reason  for 
this  is,  that  one  can  never  hope  to  find  perfect  unity  in  any 
woman,  but  must  try  to  cultivate  it.  I  reckoned  on  this 
moulding  process,  and  you  must  acknowledge  that  for  a  long 
time  I  have  taken  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  trying  to  remould 
you. 

Eh  Men  ! — it  did  not  succeed,  either  because  you  were  too 
strong,  or  your  love  was  too  weak.  I  see  clearly  by  your  last 
letter  that  it  is  impossible,  and  that  which  I  considered  as  a 
momentary  conflict  is  a  fundamental  part  of  your  nature.  I 
also  see  that  you  wish  me  to  be  absolutely  frank.  I  think  I 
have  stated  everything  clearly  enough.  To  sum  up — you  write 
that  you  are  convinced  "that  matters  can  never  be  on  a 
satisfactory  footing  with  you  two."  Very  well !  neither  would 
it  be  with  me  alone. 

There  ends  this  remarkable  letter,  which  is  of  a 
very  different  tone  from  the  passionate  ones  written 
during  our  tragic  story.  This  portrait,  drawn  by 
himself,  of  the  man  I  loved  so  well,  moves  me  deeply 
even  now — as  deeply  as  if  he  stood  before  me  once 
more,  in  all  the  strength  of  his  wonderful  personality, 
with  all  his  power  of  attraction,  powerful,  dominant, 
and    yet    breaking    up    so    miserably   on    such    an 

179 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

insignificant  thing  as  the  weakness  and  cowardice  of 
a  young  woman. 

One  may  perhaps  be  justified  in  the  query : 
M  Was  this  weakness  the  cause  of  his  destruction  ? " 
The  discussion  has  often  arisen  as  to  what  role 
Lassalle  would  have  played  in  the  development  of 
Germany  during  the  'seventies.  Would  he,  in  the 
boundless  reach  of  his  personal  plans,  with  his 
incomparable  ambition  and  will,  ever  have  been  able 
to  adapt  himself  in  the  compact,  gigantic  edifice  of 
the  German  Empire  ?  Assuredly  it  must  always 
have  seemed  to  him  like  a  prison !  I  therefore  ask 
whether  we  pigmies,  all  of  us,  were  not  mere  puppets 
in  the  hands  of  destiny,  and  used  by  the  spirit  of  the 
world's  history  as  the  means  of  sweeping  away  the 
giant  who  could  have  found  no  place  in  the  Empire. 


180 


CHAPTER  XXV 

Now  followed  in  my  life  months  of  horror  beyond 
description.  To  be  obliged  to  remain  with  my 
detested  parents,  and  to  see  no  deliverance  but  in  a 
marriage  with  the  man  who,  even  although  he  had 
not  wished  it,  was  still  the  murderer  of  Ferdinand  ! 
.  .  .  Can  one  imagine  a  more  terrible  situation  ?  The 
apathy  I  have  already  mentioned  had  taken  possession 
of  me,  and  protected  me  during  the  earlier  time  from 
some  desperate  act  Poor  Yanko  surrounded  me 
with  such  tender  care,  lamented  and  wept  so  bitterly 
with  me  over  our  fate,  that  at  last  I  pitied  him  even 
more  than  I  did  myself.  In  my  eyes — I  have  said  it 
thousands  of  times,  and  can  only  repeat  it  again  and 
again — the  murderer  of  Lassalle  was  not  Yanko,  but 
my  father.  Yanko  had  been  forced  into  the  appalling 
situation.  They  had  bewildered  his  not  too  keen 
understanding  with  false  notions  of  honour ;  per- 
suaded him  he  must  take  my  father's  place,  and  save 
my  honour  which  had  been  tarnished  by  Lassalle  and 
the  Countess.  In  short,  they  had  forced  the  weapon 
into  his  hand  with  which  he,  without  wishing  it  (that 
I  can  swear  before  God  and  everything  I  hold  sacred), 
had  killed  the  man  for  whose  sake  he  had  really 
meant  to  sacrifice  himself. 

How  often  we  talked  of  it  later,  how  he  had 
intended,  if  the  gods  had  been  more  merciful,  to  take 
me  himself  to  Lassalle,  to  redeem  the  promise  he  had 
given  to  Grandmamma  to  make  me  happy,  and  to 
watch  over  my  happiness. 

He  was  my  only  friend  in  those  dark  days — the 

181 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

only  human  being  I  could  speak  to  and  tell  all  that 
was  in  my  heart ;  who  understood  me  and  my  pain, 
yet  who  shared  it.  Whoever  considers  this  miserable 
position  at  home,  my  hatred  of  all  my  cruel  relations, 
who  never  for  one  moment  felt  the  slightest  pity 
for  me,  will  say  with  Yanko  von  Racowitza,  "You 
cannot  possibly  stay  here,  as  circumstances  are.  Only 
/  can  protect  you  against  these  unmerciful  creatures. 
My  heart  alone  can  comprehend  your  suffering." 
Whoever  understands  this  young  noble  heart  will 
also  understand  mine,  when  I  fled  to  it  as  my  sole 
refuge,  and  was  thus  eventually  induced  to  marry  the 
murderer  of  F.  Lassalle — who  yet  was  innocent. 

It  was  not  only  this  great  love  and  pity  for  my 
suffering  that  bound  me  to  him,  but  his  truthful 
open  nature,  and  fearless  disposition.  I  have  suffered 
so  much  in  life  from  the  contrary  that,  to  this  day,  I 
am  grateful  to  him ;  for  it  needed  courage  to  tell  the 
woman  he  had  loved  all  the  dreadful  details  of  his 
young  and  passionate  life  before  he  had  known  me. 
I  forgave  all,  not  only  because  of  his  frankness,  but 
because  I  understood  his  fiery  southern  nature.  I 
trusted  him  as  he  trusted  me,  and  the  old  hand  of 
friendship  between  us  was  stronger  than  ever. 

Still,  we  were  not  as  yet  to  speak  of  marriage. 
First  of  all  came  a  sort  of  chase.  Poor  Yanko  was 
hunted  throughout  Europe  from  land  to  land.  The 
Swiss  authorities  demanded  his  arrest,  and  only  by 
aid  of  all  kinds  of  diplomatic  finesse  did  my  father 
succeed  in  getting  him,  on  various  pretexts,  to 
Bucharest,  to  Vienna,  Paris,  and  Munich,  and  back 
again  to  Bucharest.  It  was  a  bitterly  cold  winter, 
and  the  delicate  southerner,  now  only  twenty-one 
years  of  age,  contracted  on  these  journeys,  in  snow 
and  storm,  an  injury  affecting  his  lungs  from  which 
he  never  recovered. 

In  the  spring  of  the  following  year  he  was 
hopelessly  consumptive,  given  up  by  the  doctors,  and 
his  cry  of  longing  for  me — the  only  person  he  loved — 

182 


YANKO'S  FATAL  ILLNESS 

penetrated  straight  to  my  heart.  I  had  nothing 
more  to  lose  on  this  earth ;  I  went  with  my  parents 
to  his  sick-bed. 

As  is  always  the  case  in  such  illnesses,  his  state 
fluctuated  from  slight  improvement  at  joyful  news — 
such  as  my  arrival — to  the  deepest  misery. 

On  our  wedding-day  a  strange  event  made  a 
deep  impression  upon  us.  To  give  this  its  full 
importance  I  must  sketch  a  little  picture  of  my  life 
in  Wallachia. 

In  order  to  breathe  better  country  air  Yanko 
was  taken  from  Bucharest  to  the  country  place  of  his 
family.  But  there  the  family  mansion  was  barely 
completed,  and  the  invalid  was  not  allowed  to  live 
in  the  house,  which  was  still  damp.  Therefore,  for 
the  first  weeks,  we  went  to  the  "  farmer's  "  house. 

What  that  meant  can  only  be  imagined  by  those 
who  knowt these  hovels.  To  European  civilised  con- 
ceptions it  defies  all  description.  Mice  and  rats 
lived  in  complete  harmony  with  us ;  at  night  they 
ate  up  our  bedroom  tallow  candles.  My  love  of 
animals  stood  me  then  in  good  stead.  I  did  not 
quail  at  the  sight  of  these  creatures.  In  spite  of 
this,  my  courage  failed  when,  as  soon  as  we  went  to 
bed,  odorous  bugs  fell  on  our  heads  from  the  rotten 
beams  above  us,  and  made  any  idea  of  slumber  an 
illusion.  Added  to  this  was  a  real  Rumanian 
peculiarity.  All  round  the  farmer's  house,  which 
could  only  be  reached  by  a  narrow  gravel  path, 
immense  herds  of  swine  lived,  wallowed,  and 
flourished.  By  day  they  roamed  the  vast  oak 
forests,  and  at  night  the  most  sagacious  ,ones  pre- 
ferred camping  round  about  the  house.  Grunting  and 
grumbling  arose  throughout  the  evening  and  night ! 

All  these  native  delights  were  the  despair  of  poor 
sick  Yanko.  He  felt  humiliated  and  unhappy  that 
he  had  brought  me — the  spoilt  European  child — into 
these  Asiatic  wilds.  He  sat  half  the  night  through 
upon  his  bed,  and  wept  in  dire  depression.     It  was  I 

183 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

who  had  to  console  him,  and  call  up  my  once-vaunted 
good  spirits  to  our  help.  One  thing  he  realised. 
What  could  these  mere  outward  worries  matter  in 
comparison  with  the  soul  torments  we  had  already 
gone  through  ? 

Often  when  I  saw  his  courage  giving  way,  and  he 
complained  of  these  things  (chiefly  of  the  pigs  rubbing 
themselves  against  every  corner  of  the  house),  I  found 
my  good-humour  once  more,  and  consoled  him,  saying 
jokingly,  "Cant  you  hear?  That  is  a  great  fat 
beauty — as  our  farmer  says,  a  'Sow-father.'  He 
makes  the  whole  house  tremble ;  he  is  worth  his 
weight  in  ducats,  and  will  help  us  get  to  Egypt  and 
get  you  quite  cured  ! "  Then  he  smiled  beneath  his 
tears,  but  suffered  nevertheless  under  these  Asiatic 
conditions.  In  all  this  dirt  we  were  surrounded  by 
quantities  of  servants.  When  we  were  able  to  go 
into  the  family  house,  I  counted  thirty-six  of  them, 
all  helping  each  other  to  do  nothing  for  our  comfort. 
Men  cooks — a  different  one  for  every  kind  of  dish ; 
women  cooks  for  sweet  dishes  and  milk  puddings ; 
servants  for  cleaning  silver  ;  lamp  cleaners ;  kitchen- 
maids  and  under  menial  men  servants  and  chamber- 
maids for  every  one  of  us  ;  a  coachman  for  me — a 
handsome  gipsy,  by  the  way — a  servant  for  Yanko 
and  his  parents ;  stable  men  and  boys — in  short,  an 
innumerable  herd. 

Before  our  wedding,  Yanko's  sister  arrived  with 
her  husband,  and  then  there  were  more  servants  still. 

The  stable  was  just  as  luxurious,  and  it  was  a 
common  occurrence  to  drive  out  with  four,  six, 
eight,  or  even  twelve  horses,  driven  sometimes 
tandem,  with  gipsy  outriders  in  bright  dresses.  It 
was  really  gorgeous. 

The  above-mentioned  brother-in-law  was  a  rough, 
brutal  sort  of  man,  for  whom  I  felt  the  deepest 
antipathy.  Let  me  relate  here  one  little  story  about 
him,  which  will  serve  to  illustrate  the  country  and 
its  customs. 

184 


MARRIAGE  WITH  YANKO 

On  the  last  evening  but  one  before  our  wedding, 
this  nobleman  had  thrashed  our  priest  in  such  a 
manner  (they  had  quarrelled  about  the  hay  harvest) 
that  only  the  interference  of  Yanko,  with  the  warning 
that  the  "  pope  "  would  not  be  able  to  wed  us  if  he 
were  thrashed  too  much,  made  an  end  of  the  scandalous 
affair. 

If  my  heart  had  not  been  so  heavy  from  the 
sorrows  I  had  just  passed  through,  I  think  I  could 
not  have  borne  the  thought  of  spending  my  life  in 
such  surroundings.  But  this  heart  was — excepting 
for  Yanko  and  his  illness — indifferent  to  everything. 

My  father  was  delighted  with  the  fine  hunting 
(he  even  found  wolves  to  kill),  and  my  mother  no 
doubt  found  the  surroundings  here  very  similar  to 
those  she  had  intended  for  me  at  the  time  with  the 
old  Colonel  in  Sardinia.  Our  wedding-day  approached. 
Every  tiling  glittered  in  festal  array.  The  peasants 
were  in  their  finest  furs,  even  the  women ;  for 
although  it  was  a  very  hot  day  in  June,  none  of 
them  who  wished  to  be  admired  appeared  without 
a  fur,  with  the  hair  half  hidden  by  embroidered  veils 
richly  ornamented  with  ducats.  Many  of  the  girls 
wore  the  whole  of  their  bridal  treasure  on  their  heads. 
The  embroidered  shirts  that  hung  down  to  the  calves 
were  held  behind  by  a  piece  of  stuff  like  an  apron 
richly  interwoven. 

The  "  pope  "  who  had  been  thrashed  was  also  in 
full  dress,  and  awaited  us  at  the  church  door.  It 
was  a  picture  of  vivid  colour  in  the  burning  sunshine. 

I  saw  nothing  but  my  poor  Yanko  looking  so 
pale  and  so  ill,  and  my  heart  was  anything  but  joyful. 
I  had  pictured  my  marriage  very  differently,  and 
with  another  bridegroom.  I  felt  nothing  but  com- 
passion for  the  young  heart  beside  me,  and  pity  for 
myself  that  I  was  here  ;  yet  I  realised  that  this  heart 
alone  was  my  place  of  refuge  in  this  merciless  world. 

During  the  long  wedding  ceremonial  of  the  Greek 
rites  within  the  little  church,  the  sky  without  grew 

185 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

dark,  heavy  thunderclouds  crept  up,  and  flash  upon 
flash  of  lightning  followed. 

Suddenly  a  tremendous  clap  of  thunder  !  We 
all  stood  terrified ;  the  lightning  struck  a  tree  just 
outside  the  church — one  of  three  standing  together 
— and  split  it  through  the  centre. 

A  murmur  arose,  in  and  around  the  church : 
"  A  bad  omen !  The  poor  young  wife  1 "  Voices 
grew  loud,  for  the  tree  was  Yanko's  life-tree.  His 
father,  at  the  birth  of  his  three  children,  had  planted 
on  the  hill  by  the  church  a  young  tree  for  each  of 
them.  They  all  had  flourished — but  now  the  one 
most  recently  planted  lay  felled  to  the  ground. 

This  curious  circumstance  was  made  light  of  by 
our  relations,  who  tried  to  banish  it  from  our  memory, 
but  the  omen  was  fulfilled. 

I  do  not  wish  to  tell  much  about  this  short,  sad 
married  life,  which  on  my  side  was  merely  the  nursing 
of  an  invalid.  Could  I  describe  the  slow  death  of  a 
consumptive  patient  who  was  happy  at  last  in  the 
possession  of  the  woman  he  loved  ? 

We  passed  a  few  weeks  in  the  fashionable  and 
luxurious  Rumanian  bathing-place,  Mehadia,  where 
we  were  feted  and  admired,  because  he  was  so  dark 
and  I  so  fair.  It  was  here  that  I  discovered  that  that 
which  I  had  learned  in  Nice  of  the  customs  of  the 
international  world  was  child's  play  compared  to 
the  laxity  of  morals  that  prevailed  in  Rumanian 
society.  Here  every  woman  lived  with  some  one 
else's  husband,  and  every  man  with  another's  wife. 
They  did  it  quite  openly,  and  one  got  quite  be- 
wildered at  the  chronique  scandaleuse  of  this  elegant 
bathing-place.  Then  we  went  to  all  sorts  of  health 
resorts,  seeking  alleviation  for  the  coughing  fits  of 
my  poor  sufferer.  Among  other  places  we  went  to 
the  Kochellak  in  the  Bavarian  mountains,  where  we 
met  several  interesting  and  clever  people.  There 
were  professors  and  musicians  with  their  pretty  and 
amusing  wives,  many  of  them  Dessauer  families  and 

186 


ALONE  WITH  STRANGERS 

landowners  in  the  place.  We  met  frequently,  and  I 
read  aloud  to  some  of  them,  played  and  sang.  When 
Yanko  could  not  join  us,  I  preferred  remaining  with 
him,  for  I  had  determined  to  devote  myself  absolutely 
to  him — and  this  I  did.  Once  they  all  begged  mc 
to  take  part  in  a  rowing  expedition,  and  as  Yanko 
added  his  persuasions  I  allowed  myself  to  accept.  1 
went  with  them  to  the  end  of  the  garden  where  the 
boats  lay,  but  when  they  got  in,  I  felt  I  could  not  join 
them,  and  flew,  rather  than  walked,  back  to  the  house. 

On  the  stairs  I  heard  Yanko  playing  the  piano 
softly,  and  when  I  stood  before  him  so  unexpectedly 
I  shall  never  forget  his  glad  look  of  gratitude.  How 
the  glorious  dark  eyes  lit  up ! 

I  see  him  still  before  me.  This  little  moment  has 
often  consoled  me  in  later  life,  and  made  me  glad 
that  I  am  as  I  am — in  spite  of  all  that  others  may 
think  of  me.  Let  us  recall  here  another  little 
incident  which  will  show  the  impression  we  two 
young  people  made.  We  had  gone  to  Meran,  where 
Yanko's  mother  with  her  household  was  passing  the 
autumn.  I  had  therefore  given  a  holiday  to  my 
faithful  The'rese,  and  Yanko  to  his  valet — letting 
them  go  home  for  a  short  time  before  we  went  south. 

Hardly  had  we  been  there  a  few  days  when  the 
mother-in-law  was  called  away  suddenly  by  her 
husband,  and  travelled  bag  and  baggage  to  Paris, 
leaving  us  two  quite  alone.  Compared  with  the 
old  Racowitzas,  my  parents  were  people  of  heart  and 
sentiment !  We  telegraphed  at  once  to  our  servants  ; 
nevertheless  we  were  a  few  days  by  ourselves,  and 
at  the  mercy  of  a  strange  woman.  The  doctor  had 
forbidden  Yanko  to  eat  hotel  food ;  he  was  to  have 
simple  but  nourishing  fare.  I  declared  with  pride 
that  I  could  prepare  a  simple  meal,  and  the  result 
was  as  follows.  The  woman  made  a  fire,  and  got 
together  the  necessary  things.  My  wardrobe  was  very 
elegant,  but  by  no  means  adapted  to  cooking  operations. 
So  for  this  memorable  occasion  I  wore  a  white  lace 

187 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

nigligS,  and  boldly  took  up  my  duties  as  chef.  We 
agreed  on  the  following  menu !  Bouillon,  beefsteak 
with  baked  potatoes,  salad,  and  an  omelette  soufflde. 

My  knowledge  of  cooking  was  based  chiefly  on 
Liebig  s  Cookery  Book.  The  bouillon  was  splendid  ! 
Meat  was  cut  into  little  pieces,  and  laid  in  cold  water 
with  the  necessary  herbs  and  salt,  then  left  to  cook 
for  hours  until  a  strong  tasty  broth  developed  itself, 
to  which  Gries  was  added.  The  beefsteak  also  was 
quite  good.  Yanko  peeled  the  potatoes,  sitting 
outside  the  kitchen  window  on  the  ledge  which  runs 
round  every  Tyrolese  house.  He  knew  how  to  beat 
up  the  eggs  for  the  omelette,  and,  laughing  like 
children,  our  self-cooked  meal  went  off  very*  well. 
Meran  and  Botzen  fruits  ended  the  feast,  and  my  dear 
good  invalid  declared  he  had  never  tasted  anything 
so  excellent.  I  had  hardly  put  him  to  bed  for  his 
afternoon  sleep  when  the  woman  appeared  and 
announced,  "  The  old  Countess  F.  is  here — the  lady 
who  lives  below  us." 

I  did  not  know  her,  but  asked  her  to  come  in. 
She,  a  dear  aristocratic-looking  old  lady,  came  towards 
me  with  outstretched  hands  and  exclaimed,  "  Please 
do  not  be  angry  with  me,  dear  young  princess,  my 
husband  sends  me  I  We  both  watched  you  to-day 
at  your  cooking,  and  he  said  it  looked  so  sweet,  so 
charming — but  whether  we  would  like  to  eat  what 
was  cooked  is  another  matter !  Therefore,  we  beg 
you,  until  your  servants  arrive,  to  allow  us  to  share 
our  dinner  with  you." 

Amidst  thanks,  laughter,  and  joking,  the  amiable 
offer  was  accepted,  in  spite  of  Yanko's  praise  of  my 
culinary  knowledge,  which  I  feared  would  not  suffice 
for  a  second  menu !  Two  days  later  our  servants 
came,  and  we  soon  left  Meran  to  go  to  Egypt,  where 
we  were  sent  by  the  doctors. 

Here  also  our  stay  was  not  of  long  duration,  for 
Yanko  did  not  like  it  at  all — he  coughed  more  than 
ever,  and  I  grew  nervous  at  being  so  far  away  from 

188 


IN  CORFU 

all  friends.  We  went  to  Corfu  to  pass  the  winter. 
This  was  the  most  unfortunate  thing  to  do,  for 
cholera  was  raging  in  various  places,  and  in  Corfu 
a  very  strict  quarantine  was  held.  We  had  to  stay 
twelve  days  on  a  rock  in  the  sea,  in  a  miserable 
wooden  building,  which  seemed  more  like  a  stable 
than  a  human  dwelling-place.  The  beds  were  of 
planks,  supported  by  stone  blocks,  and  here  I  had 
to  remain  with  my  invalid. 

For  a  week  we  had  most  dreadful  weather ;  the 
rain  came  through  the  planks  which  served  as  a  roof. 
In  short,  it  was  a  state  of  things  which  must  have 
tried  even  the  strongest.  To  my  poor  patient  it 
gave  the  finishing  touch. 

When  at  last  we  were  released  from  quarantine, 
we  went  to  the  hotel  in  Corfu.  The  doctor  told  me 
that  Yanko's  illness  had  advanced  from  the  chronic  to 
the  acute  stage.     It  was  now  only  a  matter  of  days. 

One  could  perhaps  imagine  my  despair  if  putting 
oneself  in  my  place.  I  was  all  alone  in  a  country  where 
I  did  not  know  a  soul,  and  the  only  one  upon  whom 
I  had  built  my  hopes  and  trust  was  condemned  to 
death. 

Sobbing  bitterly,  and  not  knowing  what  to  do,  I 
walked  up  and  down  the  banal  hotel  drawing-room, 
while  my  invalid  lay  in  the  next  room  in  a  half- 
delirious  slumber.  The  doctor  returned  to  tell  me 
we  should  do  better  to  take  the  next  ship  to  Italy, 
for  if  Yanko  were  to  die  here  in  the  hotel,  I  should 
have  to  re-paper  the  whole  etage  and  buy  new 
carpets,  etc.,  there  being  danger  of  infection ;  and 
after  his  death  I  would  not  be  allowed  to  take  the 
corpse  away  with  me.     Thus  he  spoke  of  the  living  ! 

How  was  I,  who  had  never  lifted  a  finger  for 
myself — for  whom  everything  had  hitherto  been  done 
by  others — to  arrange  all  this  ?  Withal,  I  was  to 
remember  the  warning  that  the  sick  man  was  to 
know  nothing  of  it  all.  This  was  an  hour  that 
rivalled  the  bitterest  of  my  life. 

189 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

Yanko  called  my  name  softly.  I  put  on  a 
friendly  smile  and  went  to  him. 

"  Beloved,"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  "  don't  you 
think  this  is  a  dreadful  place  ? " 

I  nodded  and  said  immediately,  "Yes,  you  are 
right.  Shall  we  go  to  Nice  where  we  have  friends, 
and  where  we  are  nearer  home  ? " 

"  As  soon  as  my  money  comes  we  will  go,"  he 
replied ;  "  but  this  cannot  be  before  the  15th  of 
November.  We  must  wait  on  till  then."  It  was 
now  the  7th. 

The  next  minute  he  had  forgotten  what  he  had 
said  ;  weakness  overcame  him  ;  he  slumbered,  and 
despair  again  took  possession  of  me.  I  stood  at  the 
window  in  the  deepest  distress.  Then  there  came  a 
soft  tap  at  the  door. 

I  called  out,  "  Come  in " ;  and  a  tall,  elderly 
gentleman  with  white  hair  and  beard  stood  before 
me.  He  said  compassionately,  and  in  German,  "  You 
poor,  poor  child."  I  did  not  know  who  he,  was,  but 
the  tone  and  speech  went  straight  to  my  heart.  I 
flew  to  his  arms  and  wept  bitterly.  He  let  me  weep 
awhile,  softly  stroking  my  hair,  then  he  said,  "  I  am 
the  Prussian  consul,  von  Fels.  I  heard  of  your 
dreadful  trouble,  and  my  wife  and  I  place  ourselves 
and  our  house  completely  at  your  disposal." 

How  was  I  to  thank  him  ?  how  accept  his  offer  ? 
I  can  find  no  words  even  now  to  express  my  gratitude 
to  the  noble  man  and  his  kind  wife  for  all  they  did 
for  me  then.  No  doubt  both  of  them  are  dead  long 
ago.  May  their  memory  be  blessed,  even  beyond  the 
grave ! 

They  arranged  everything  for  me.  The  consul 
put  the  necessary  money  at  my  disposal,  made  all 
inquiries  regarding  the  journey,  and  returned  after  a 
short  time  to  tell  me  that  in  a  few  days  an  English 
merchant- ship  was  to  sail,  and  could  take  us  to 
Ancona. 

Yanko  looked  upon  all  this  as  a  direct  message 

190 


DEATH  OF  YANKO 

from  above.  He  was  too  weak  and  ill  to  think  much 
about  it.  I  told  him  that  Herr  von  Fels  was  a 
friend  of  my  father,  that  was  why  he  did  everything 
for  us ;  and  he  was  satisfied. 

The  prospect  of  the  journey  gave  him  new 
courage,  and  next  day  he  was  able  to  drive  out  in  the 
blossoming  sunny  country  around  Corfu,  where  the 
naive  Greek  natives  wondered  at  us,  and  expressed 
their  sympathy  for  the  "  beautiful  red-blonde  Northern 
lady,  with  the  dark  young  husband  who  looked  so  ill." 

In  a  few  days  he  was  carried  on  board,  and  we 
started  for  Italy  on  the  most  beautiful  ship  I  had 
ever  seen.  The  captain — God  bless  him! — looked 
after  Yanko  like  a  mother  during  the  crossing.  He 
carried  him  himself  into  the  sunshine,  cared  for  him 
day  and  night ;  and  after  arriving  in  Ancona,  and 
having  helped  my  poor  patient  into  the  carriage, 
escaped  from  my  thanks  so  quickly,  that  I  was  never 
able  to  tell  him  how  deeply  grateful  I  was  for  his 
kindness.  We  reached  Bologna  and  stayed  at  the 
comfortable  Hotel  Brun.  I  was  alone  with  Yanko, 
and  had  allowed  our  servants  to  go  out  for  an  hour 
to  see  the  town,  when  he  fainted  away.  With  super- 
human efforts  I  lifted  him  on  to  the  bed,  which 
he  left  no  more.  On  December  12  he  fell  quietly 
asleep,  leaving  me  alone  and  friendless  in  the  world 
after  five  months  of  wedded  life.  No,  this  is  not 
true !  Friends  enough  there  were,  and  true  friends 
among  them,  but  no  one  to  lean  on.  The  bridge 
between  me  and  the  society  life  in  which  I  was  born 
and  bred  was  broken. 

Dreadful  things  now  happened.  My  father,  in 
spite  of  the  calculating  astuteness  he  had  shown  in 
the  Lassalle  affair,  had  made  no  marriage  contract  for 
me  with  the  Racowitzas.  They  refused  me  all  rights 
of  succession,  and  did  not  even  give  me  back  my 
jewels  and  trousseau,  which  I  had  left  in  Wallachia. 
My  father  merely  said  haughtily,  "Let  us  take  no 
notice  of  this  band  of  Rumanian  swineherds.     You 

191 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

won't  starve  without  them."  He  did  not  say  how 
I  should  escape  starvation,  nor  did  he  do  anything 
later  to  prevent  it.  Cleverness  in  money  matters 
was  never  my  strong  point.  I  never  understood  how 
to  arrange  my  affairs  advantageously,  so  I  did  not 
trouble  about  such  things  then,  as  my  whole  heart 
was  steeped  in  misery. 

Another  dreadful  moment  occurred  shortly  after 
Yanko's  death.  I  will  tell  of  it  to  show  that  this 
was  a  time  of  sorrow  and  pain.  After  endless 
trouble  with  the  Italian  Government  I  at  last  got 
permission  to  take  Yanko's  remains,  as  he  had 
wished,  to  Nice  with  me.  He  wanted  to  be  buried 
there,  because  he  said  I  should  always  return  there. 
When  I  communicated  this  last  wish  to  his  family, 
then  in  Nice,  they  telegraphed  back  to  me,  JEnterrez 
oil  vous  voulez,  mais  pas  id.  I  relate  this  as  a  mere 
detail,  to  show  what  they  were  like.  I  took  no 
further  notice  of  them.  Taking  the  body,  I  travelled 
at  night  in  miserable  slow  trains,  by  short  distances 
at  a  time,  as  the  superstitious  upper  classes  in  Italy 
would  not  travel  with  a  corpse. 

In  Geneva  there  were  even  greater  difficulties. 
The  coffin  had  to  remain  at  the  station  in  an  extra 
carriage,  whilst  I  went  to  find  a  ship.  The  night 
before  I  was  to  get  the  body  on  board,  a  sudden 
report  flew  about  that  the  station  was  in  flames. 
This  was  the  crowning-point  of  my  troubles.  I  drove 
madly  through  the  streets  towards  the  station,  which 
could  only  be  reached  in  some  hours.  The  good, 
pious  people  had  already  moved  the  hearse  to  a  safe 
place,  so  my  anguish  of  mind  had  been  unnecessary. 

In  Nice,  in  a  beautiful  old  churchyard,  the  poor 
young  heart,  that  had  beaten  and  suffered  only  for 
me,  was  laid  to  rest.  I,  however,  had  to  live  on  in 
the  noisy,  restless  world — to  live  and  struggle  and 
suffer — suffer  as  I  do  even  to-day  in  my  stormy  old 
age. 

192 


PART  V 

In  Nice  with  Medora  Ward — Nearly  a  Jesuit — In  Paris — 
Nearly  at  the  Court  of  Napoleon  III. — In  Berlin — 
Theatre  studies — Nearly  in  Bismarck's  service — The 
stage  is  victorious — Siegwart  Friedmann — New  wedlock 
— In  Vienna — Divorce — Franz  Lenbach — Hans  Makart 
— Franz  Liszt — Heinrich  Laube  and  his  house. 


193 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

I  was  now  free  as  a  bird,  at  the  mercy  of  the  world, 
and  all  possibilities  and  impossibilities. 

I  was  free  as  a  bird,  without  support  in  my  family, 
without  deeper  religious  feeling,  for  the  terrible 
sorrow  I  had  been  through  had  shaken  my  faith  in 
God,  and  not  replaced  it  by  any  other  ideal  view  of 
life.  Germany  was  going  through  a  period  of  the 
crassest  materialism,  which  offered  me  no  substitute, 
although  at  the  time  I  was  deep  in  the  study  of 
natural  sciences. 

With  this  void  within  me,  and  the  blunting  of  my 
best  feelings,  with  a  nature  that  knew  no  check,  and 
reacted  most  powerfully  to  every  impression  of  the 
senses,  I  was  like  a  ship  on  the  sea  of  life,  exposed  to 
all  tempests,  without  a  pilot. 

Between  Lassalle's  and  Yanko's  death  I  had  already 
begun  to  learn  how  the  world  can  treat  a  woman  who 
has  been  marked  by  fate. 

From  that  time  I  learned  to  pay  little  attention 
to  the  world's  verdict,  for  it  mostly  judges  without 
knowledge  of  circumstances  or  regard  to  them. 

At  that  time  the  pride  arose  in  me  that  enables 
one  to  hold  one's  head  high,  because  one  is  justified  in 
respecting  oneself,  no  matter  how  deeply  one  must 
wade  through  the  mire  of  contempt.  Pride,  courage, 
and  love  of  truth  are  necessary  in  such  circumstances 
to  combat  with  the  world  and  its  prejudices. 

Bitter  tears  flowed  during  my  silent  nights,  but 
in  the  day  I  dried  my  eyes,  and  put  on  a  smiling 

195 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

face,  which  those  merciless  ones  mistook  for  callous- 
ness and  lightness  !  From  my  own  family  I  got  no 
love  of  any  sort. 

The  day  I  buried  my  poor  Yanko  in  Nice,  my 
parents,  then  living  in  Munich,  gave  a  big  party  (this 
I  heard  later  from  my  old  governess,  who  was  still  in 
the  house  and  educating  the  younger  sisters).  For 
such  a  trivial  detail  it  was  not  worth  while  putting 
off  so  many  people. 

Just  at  first  I  stayed  with  my  dearest  friend — a 
beautiful  American — Mrs.  Medora  W.  She  and  her 
mother  were  now  in  Nice,  and  invited  me  to  share 
their  hospitality. 

It  was  an  interesting  house,  and  interesting  people 
visited  it.     Medora  had  an  eventful  life  behind  her. 

Married  very  young  to  one  of  New  York's  richest 
and  fastest  men,  the  poor  thing  had  gone  through 
everything  possible  in  the  short  time.  Her  husband 
soon  had  not  a  penny ;  he  squandered  all  his  money 
on  cards  and  women.  He  also  drank.  When  misery 
had  reached  its  height,  the  wife's  mother  appeared, 
and  took  her  and  her  two  little  sons  to  Europe. 
Here  she  lived  with  them  until  Medora's  death. 

This  mother  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
women  I  have  ever  known,  and  although  nearly 
seventy  was  still  more  beautiful  than  her  two 
daughters,  who  were  both  noted  beauties.  She  was 
a  South  American  —  her  father  had  been  the  last 
Spanish  Governor  of  Louisiana,  and  her  husband  the 
first  American  one. 

When,  on  great  occasions,  she  put  on  full  dress, 
one  could  hardly  imagine  anything  more  distinguished 
or  more  elegant  than  this  tall  old  lady,  who  moved 
with  royal  grandezza.  In  daily  life  she  went  about 
in  torn  or  worn-out  cotton  dresses,  and  shoes  down- 
at-heel.  She  was  hasty,  hot-tempered,  but  always 
witty  ^nd  amusing,  and  full  of  interesting  anecdotes. 

Although  she  had  been  through  so  much  trouble, 
nevertheless  Medora  was  one  of  the  wittiest  and  most 

196 


MASQUERADE  AT  NICE 

amiable  of  companions,  and  knew  everybody  in  Nice 
that  had  any  pretensions  to  wit  and  elegance.  We 
read  many  biographies  together,  and  thus  had  con- 
tinually new  topics  of  conversation.  St.  Simons 
works,  in  many  volumes,  and  many  others  of  the 
same  or  a  little  later  period,  interested  us  most.  We 
declared  at  last  that  we  knew  the  French  Court 
circles  of  that  time  better  than  the  life  which  sur- 
rounded us  every  day.  At  this  season  no  celebrities 
were  in  Nice,  merely  the  usual  residents,  mostly  of 
good  family,  and  more  or  less  interesting.  The 
following  incident  is  characteristic  of  the  strange  old 
lady,  and  not  without  interest. 

Among  those  present  during  the  winter  in  Nice 
was  the  beautiful  Princess  S.,  who  later  ended 
miserably  through  gambling,  etc.  I  admired  her 
immensely.  She  was  a  magnificently-built  woman, 
and  had  an  absolutely  innocent  and  childlike  ex- 
pression, with  the  complexion  of  a  child  of  five,  and 
large  tender  eyes  like  a  doe. 

Not  exactly  childlike  stories  were  told  of  her 
love  adventures,  which  were  so  far  noteworthy  that 
she  never  allowed  a  lover  more  than  once  into  her 
"  alcove,"  pretending  afterwards  that  she  did  not  know 
him,  if  by  chance  they  met.  This  habit  has  led  as 
yet  to  no  particular  consequences,  as  she  chiefly  chose 
her  lovers  from  quite  a  different  class  of  society  from 
that  of  the  g7*and  monde  to  which  she  belonged. 
But  once  it  was  otherwise,  and  this  single  case  spoilt 
her  position  once  for  all  in  Nice  society.  At  the 
time  I  speak  of  she  was  the  queen  of  the  winter, 
very  rich,  with  splendid  dresses  and  regal  jewels,  and 
her  hospitality  attracted  all  whom  she  wished  to  her 
house.  She  had  just  sent  out  invitations  for  one  of 
her  famous  beds  costumes.  People  said  that  this 
time  it  was  to  be  especially  magnificent,  and  she 
herself  would  change  her  costume  three  or  four 
times. 

The  Princess,  who  was  flattered  by  the  admiration 

197 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

of  a  woman  as  much  admired  as  I  then  was,  begged 
me  to  lay  aside  my  mourning  for  the  day  of  her  ball, 
and  come  to  it,  even  if  masked.  All  Nice  talked  of 
nothing  else  but  the  ball  at  the  Russian  Princess's. 

I  could  not  deny  that  it  would  amuse  me 
immensely  to  watch  it  all,  but  I  said,  and  this  was 
also  Medora's  opinion,  that  it  was  not  feasible,  or 
compatible  with  my  widow's  weeds. 

Medora's  mother  (Mrs.  Grymes)  thought  other- 
wise. Her  Spanish  blood  could  not  resist  a  masked 
ball  any  more  than  one  did  in  the  days  of  Don  Juan. 
She  thought  out  a  plan.  Medora  was  to  go  quietly 
to  the  ball  alone  at  nine.  We  helped  her  dress,  and 
admired  her  costume  of  yellow  and  gold  (she  was  to 
represent  Mexico).  It  showed  her  curious  beauty  to 
great  advantage,  and  she  drove  off,  her  mother 
promising  to  follow  her  in  domino  at  eleven  and 
watch  the  fete  for  a  short  time  before  returning  home 
with  her. 

Hardly  had  Medora  departed,  than  the  dear  old 
lady  began,  as  we  had  planned,  to  make  me  unre- 
cognisable. 

"  I  understand  how  to  do  it ;  I  have  done  it 
hundreds  of  times,"  she  said.  "The  devil  himself 
would  have  to  be  very  clever  who  would  know  you 
when  you  are  out  of  my  hands."  She  touched  up 
riot  only  my  lashes  and  eyebrows  with  black,  but 
all  round  the  eyes,  part  of  the  forehead  and  cheeks, 
and  a  black  wig  hid  my  red  hair.  She  then  stuffed 
me  out  (I  was  very  slender  then),  and  over  all  came  a 
loose,  wide  black  domino,  exactly  like  her  own,  with 
a  hood  that  fitted  closely  round  the  face.  Then  we 
drove  off  together. 

On  entering  the  ball-room  I  at  once  noticed  Prince 
Carlo  L.  di  F.,  my  most  ardent  admirer,  of  whom 
I  shall  speak  later.  He  was  leaning  against  a  pillar 
looking  very  bored.  He  seemed  to  notice  the  two 
black  dominoes  directly,  looked  more  closely,  stooped 
a  moment  to   catch  sight  of  our   feet,  then   came 

198 


AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  MASK 

unhesitatingly  up  to  me.  "Thank  God  you  are 
come,  Madonna  Elena,  although  it  is  terribly  frivolous 
of  you  to  come  to  a  ball  while  you  are  in  deep 
mourning ! " 

I  pretended  not  to  understand  him,  but  he  quietly 
took  my  arm,  and  said,  "  Don't  you  think  I  would 
have  known  you  at  once  in  spite  of  all  masks,  and 
among  a  thousand,  by  your  walk,  hand  and  foot? 
Only  one  person  possesses  them  ! " 

My  denial  was  of  no  avail.  Soon  the  Princess 
entered  dressed  as  an  old  Russian  Boyarde — literally 
clothed  in  diamonds,  rubies,  pearls  and  emeralds. 
She  came  towards  me — guessed  whom  I  might  be,  but 
did  not  recognise  me. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  old  King  Louis  I.  of 
Bavaria,  who  had  abdicated  in  1848,  came  with  the 
gentlemen  of  his  suite  into  the  little  boudoir  I  had 
chosen  as  a  refuge,  being  a  little  frightened  at  the 
non-success  of  my  disguise.  He  called  out  in  his 
loud,  brusque  manner : 

"  Ah,  here  she  is — the  Helenerl,  frivolous  bird  ! 
to  come  to  a  ball  in  the  deepest  widow's  weeds ! 
You  wait ! " 

I  pretended  not  to  know  him,  not  to  understand 
German,  but  in  vain. 

I  soon  fled  homewards. 

Next  midday,  when  I  was  resting  on  the  sofa,  the 
door  opened  and  the  man-servant  announced,  "His 
Majesty — the  King  of  Bavaria  ! " 

I  jumped  up ;  he  came  with  upraised  forefinger 
towards  me  threateningly  : 

"  Child,  I  come  to  scold  you !  Every  one  re- 
cognised you,  and  I  have  nothing  to  do  now  but  to 
defend  my  little  widow  (as  she  is  my  own  subject) 
against  the  reproach  of  the  most  dreadful  frivolity. 
No  denial  is  of  any  use  now,  I  am  perfectly  certain  it 
was  you." 

I  tried  once  more  to  deny — but  vainly.  Thus 
ended  my  first  and  last  masquerade.     Masks  to  me 

199 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACO  WITZA 

seem  dreadful  things,  like  all  disguises  and  everything 
untrue  or  simulated. 

Yet  a  few  words  about  the  beautiful  Princess 
S.  She  appeared  at  this  fete  in  three  costumes, 
first  as  a  blue  flower,  covered  with  sapphires,  and 
gleaming  in  the  cold  light  of  these  lovely  stones.  She 
was  dressed  in  big  blue  silk  flowers,  out  of  which 
peeped  her  charming  little  head.  Then  in  the  already 
mentioned  Boyarde  costume,  of  old  brocade  and  fur, 
and  at  last  as  Rose  Queen — her  dress,  hair  and  breast 
strewn  with  roses  in  each  of  which  gleamed,  as  dew- 
drop,  an  enormous  diamond. 

On  this  evening  she  showed  the  world  all  her 
splendid  jewels  which  she  lost  later  on  in  gambling. 

The  catastrophe  which  cost  the  feted  beauty  her 
position  in  society  happened  as  follows :  One  of  the 
lovers  chosen  for  her  solitary  love -meeting  was  a 
young  engineer,  who  had  really  fallen  in  love  with 
her,  and  would  not  obey  her  command  not  to  see  her 
again.  He  procured  a  ticket  for  a  charity  ball,  of 
which  the  Princess  was  patroness,  and  as  she  entered 
the  room  on  the  arm  of  an  old  Baron  W.  (her 
usual  chaperon),  the  young  man  went  up  to  her  and 
addressed  her.  She  looked  up  in  astonishment  at 
him,  with  her  innocent  eyes,  and  said  icily,  "  Who  is 
that  gentleman,  I  do  not  know  him." 

No  one  in  society  knew  him  either.  The  old 
Baron  looked  angrily  at  the  intruder,  and  had  opened 
his  lips  to  utter  some  insulting  remark,  when  the 
young  man  said  quite  loudly  and  clearly,  "Good 
heavens,  it  is  quite  natural  the  princess  does  not 
recognise  me,  for  she  only  saw  me  in  undress" 

There  was  a  dreadful  scandal.  The  young 
engineer  left  the  ball  at  once,  but  the  Princess  felt  her 
diadem  totter,  and  one  saw  her  no  more  in  Nice. 

I  remember  with  pleasure  another  little  episode. 
I  had  often  heard  the  name  of  the  Marquis  du  Pac, 
yet  did  not  trouble  much  about  him,  as  I  did  not 
know  him. 

200 


THE  MARQUIS  DU  PAC 

One  day  Medora  came  to  my  room  and  exclaimed, 
"  Oh,  do  come  to  the  drawing-room,  the  old  Marquis 
du  Pac  is  there,  he  will  amuse  you  ! " 

I  went  with  her  at  once,  and  found  a  little  old 
gentleman  with  a  brown,  somewhat  old-fashioned  wig, 
and  corresponding  costume,  brown  frock  coat,  vest 
and  trousers — a  little  brown  man,  whom  I  supposed,  in 
spite  of  his  vivacity,  to  be  about  seventy  years  old. 
We  were  soon  in  animated  conversation.  The  old 
gentleman  related  with  wonderful  dramatic  power  the 
story  of  an  elopement  in  his  youth,  wherein  post- 
chaises,  postilions  and  disguised  servants  played  a 
part.  Then  he  exclaimed,  "  Ah,  you  poor  things,  how 
I  pity  you !  If  either  of  you  wanted  to  be  run  off 
with  to-day,  why,  the  telegraph  would  be  after  you  at 
once,  and  with  the  railway  all  romance  has  gone  to 
the  devil." 

We  laughed,  and  said  he  was  right.  He  went  on 
to  tell  us  all  sorts  of  stories  about  the  great  Catherine 
of  Russia,  Voltaire,  and  Frederick  the  Great  of 
Prussia,  which  were  so  vivid  and  full  of  colour  that  I 
thought,  "The  old  gentleman  seems  to  know  the 
memoirs  of  his  time  almost  by  heart." 

I  said  then,  "  Marquis,  you  speak  of  Catherine  as 
if  you  had  known  her." 

"  So  I  have,"  he  replied.  "  How  old  do  you  think 
I  am,  child  ? " 

"  Well,"  I  replied  hesitatingly,  "  I  fancied  some- 
where about  seventy." 

He  laughed  gleefully.  "  I  am  a  hundred  and  two  ; 
a  centenarian  now  kisses  your  hand  !  One  who  has 
known  all  these  celebrities.  From  my  twelfth  year  I 
was  a  page  to  Catherine  ;  she  sent  me  to  Frederick  the 
Great,  and  at  his  Court  I  saw  Voltaire ! " 

Now  I  was  really  interested,  and  we  chatted  for  a 
long  time.  When  he  had  left,  I  was  quite  excited, 
and  Medora  told  me  a  great  deal  about  him,  until  a 
man-servant  appeared  and  handed  me  a  splendid  basket 
of  flowers,   with  a   charming   little  poem   entitled ; 

201 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

"  L'Hiver  au  Printemps,"  written  by  the  old  Marquis 
in  madrigal  style. 

I  was  so  pleased,  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  the  little 
poem,  like  so  many  other  things,  has  been  lost.  I 
know  not  how  much  longer  he  lived,  but  the 
following  spring  he  fell  ill,  and  all  the  world  was 
already  mourning  the  death  of  their  petted  old 
centenarian  when,  after  a  few  weeks,  he  recovered, 
and  appeared  again  wandering  round  the  jar  din  public. 
Perhaps  he  is  still  alive  !  Who  knows  ?  Perhaps  he 
had  obtained  the  elixir  of  life  from  Cagliostro's  own 
hand,  but,  as  I  said,  I  do  not  know ! 

Another  famous  personage  played  a  great  part  in 
my  life,  the  clever  Jesuit  preacher,  Pere  L.  Society 
ladies  had  arranged  a  special  chapel  for  him,  which,  in 
its  luxury,  more  resembled  an  elegant  lady's  boudoir 
than  a  church  of  God.  People  crowded  to  hear  him 
preach,  as  his  sermons  were  very  convincing  and 
treated  largely  of  society  problems. 

I  remember  the  titles  of  some  of  them — "  Ennui " 
(boredom),  "  Flirting,"  and  others,  all  addressed  to  the 
mondaines,  all  witty  and  tolerant,  and  permitting 
much,  if  not  everything,  provided  faith  in  the  Church 
and  dependence  on  the  clergy  were  maintained. 

I  raved  with  the  others  about  the  interesting 
priest  and  regularly  attended  his  sermons.  Mrs. 
Gryines  and  Medora  were,  as  South  Americans,  and 
half  Spaniards,  very  pious  Catholics,  and  followed  the 
Jesuits  in  blind  admiration.  I  heard  from  Medora's 
own  mouth  that  they  reaped  a  great  deal  of  benefit 
from  them. 

I  visited  the  little  church  with  Medora,  and  once 
I  had  to  go  there  alone  and  listen  to  the  pater's 
sermon.  I  remained  seated  longer  than  usual,  as  I 
kept  apart  from  the  crowd  on  account  of  my  deep 
mourning.  The  chapel  had  emptied  itself  when  the 
Monsignor  stood  next  me.  My  face  was  buried  in 
my  hands,  for  I  was  deep  in  my  sad  thoughts. 

Suddenly  I  felt  a  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and  his 

202 


IN  THE  CONFESSIONAL 

beautifully  trained  voice,  his  chief  instrument  of  con- 
viction when  preaching,  said  softly  : 

"  May  I  disturb  you,  Princess  ?  You  always  look 
so  sad,  I  should  be  so  glad  to  be  able  to  help  you  in 
this  difficult  time." 

I  was  as  touched  as  I  was  grateful.  He  took  me 
with  him  to  his  vestry,  that  was  rather  sombre,  but 
luxuriously  arranged,  befitting  a  cabinet  of  confession 
for  beautiful  sinners  who  most  certainly  preferred 
unburdening  their  consciences  here,  rather  than  in  the 
cold  severe  confessional.  He  spoke  to  me  kindly, 
almost  like  a  loving  father,  and  my  heart  opened  out 
towards  him.  I  told  him  that  which  he  certainly 
must  have  known  a  long  time  before,  all  my  sorrows 
of  the  last  years,  and  he  consoled  me  in  the  gentlest 
manner. 

Then  some  one  tapped  at  the  door.  The  priest 
said,  "Come  in,"  excusing  himself  at  the  same 
moment  for  doing  this. 

A  tall  handsome  young  man  stood  before  us, 
remarkably  like  Lassalle,  only  darker,  so  that  my 
heart  almost  stood  still. 

The  priest  introduced  him  as  Prince  S.  di  F.,  "  a 
true  son  of  the  Church,  and  member  of  one  of  the 
oldest  and  most  religious  families  of  Sicily." 

I  stood  up  to  go,  but  the  clever  priest  engaged  us 
both  in  sugh  fascinating  conversation,  than  an  hour 
slipped  away  and  I  said  in  astonishment,  "The 
luncheon  hour  at  my  friend's  is  long  past.  I  must 
go  home  at  once." 

The  priest  laughed.  "  Well,  Princess !  anyhow 
you  will  arrive  there  too  late  !  Be  amiable  and  lunch 
with  me.  My  young  protege'  here,  Prince  Carlo, 
intended  in  any  case  to  stay  with  me.  Keep  us  both 
company,  will  you  ? "  That  was  just  what  I  liked — 
an  impromptu  luncheon  with  the  reverend  father 
and  this  animated,  handsome  Sicilian  !     I  stayed. 

From  that  time,  a  peculiar  friendship  sprang  up 
between    the    priest    and   myself,   and    a    yet   more 

203 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

peculiar  one  with  Prince  Carlo.  The  latter  had 
spoken  to  me  at  balls  and  soirees  of  the  particular 
lady  of  his  choice,  a  beautiful  Countess  Mathilde  C. 
I  teased  him  about  her,  whom  I  myself  admired 
immensely.  She  was  quite  a  different  type  from  me, 
with  her  curly  dark  hair  and  Italian  beauty,  and  I 
presumed  she  was  the  Prince's  taste. 

Prince  Carlo  often  came  to  see  us. 

I  sat  one  day  with  Medora  on  our  big  balcony  : 
it  was  one  of  the  heavenly  Nice  spring  days  in 
February.  Prince  S.  di  F.  was  announced,  and 
hardly  was  he  seated,  when  the  beautiful  Countess 
Mathilde  rushed  in  exclaiming,  "So,  here  I  am 
again,  without  having  been  married  !  You  all  know 
that  we,  my  sister  and  I,  were  taken  on  show  to  the 
Lake  of  Como.  It  was  most  ridiculous.  The  Polish 
Countess  S.,  mamma's  intime,  had  promised  her  to 
marry  at  least  one  of  us  this  season.  She  had  the 
Marchese  di  L.  on  hand,  honi  soit  qui  mal  y  pense! 
Well.  We  all  went  off  to  Lake  Como  to  the  Countess 
S.'s  villa.  We  hardly  had  time  to  arrange  ourselves 
— my  sister's  blond  locks  were  still  in  disorder,  which 
was  more  becoming  to  her  than  it  would  have  been 
to  me — when  the  'Marchese'  arrived.  We  were 
shown  off!  He  looked  at  me,  then  at  my  sister, 
then  again  at  me,  and  again  at  her,  saying  finally, 
■'  La  Biondina  mi  piace  di  piu '  (the  fair  one  pleases  me 
most).  This  was  his  verdict!  She  was  the  bride, 
and  1  am  the  forlorn  one ! " 

Mathilde  laughed  aloud,  showing  all  her  white 
teeth.  Prince  Carlo  turned  and  whispered  to  me  as 
we  leaned  on  the  balcony  railing,  "  Heavens  !  How 
vulgar  she  is  ! " 

I  looked  at  him  in  astonishment,  but  his  burning 
eyes  rested  on  me,  and  with  slightly  trembling 
voice  he  repeated  smilingly,  "  La  Biondina  mi  piace 
di  piu." 

An  exciting  and  strange  time  now  began  for  me. 
The  fiery  courtship  of  the  hot-blooded  Sicilian  pursued 

204 


A  FASCINATING  PRINCE 

me  and  surrounded  me  with  a  sultry,  half-terrifying 
atmosphere.  But  I  imagined  myself  safe  because  of 
my  mourning  and  sorrow. 

If  this  strange  likeness  to  Lassalle  had  not  existed 
I  should  not  have  been  touched  in  the  least  by  his 
passion,  for  in  the  rest  of  his  personality  there  was 
nothing  very  attractive,  in  spite  of  his  flattering 
amiability.  Indeed,  I  was  rather  interested  in  a 
young  German  doctor  (to-day  a  famous  anatomical 
professor),  who  had  bestowed  care  and  help  on  my 
poor  Yanko  in  his  last  days. 

But  the  strange  likeness  drew  me  more  and  more 
towards  the  Prince.  Yes,  it  fascinated  me !  My 
vanity  also  was  flattered,  for  he  was  very  spoilt  in 
society  and  now  withdrew  himself  from  balls  and 
festivals  in  order  to  devote  himself  to  me  and  my 
amusement. 

But  I  reproached  myself  for  allowing  any  one  but 
the  dead  to  claim  my  thoughts. 

Medora  left  Nice  at  this  time  to  join  one  of  her 
sons  in  Marseilles.  I  remained  alone  with  Mrs. 
Grymes,  otherwise,  no  doubt,  I  should  have  confided 
in  Medora,  who  was  much  older  than  I.  Her  mother 
was  just  as  odd  in  her  ideas  about  the  convenances 
as  anything  else,  sometimes  going  too  far  in  what  she 
considered  permissible,  then  again,  over-rigorous  in 
things  that  seemed  innocent  enough.  Therefore  it 
was  no  use  confiding  in  her. 

After  a  sleepless  night,  I  resolved  to  tell  all  to 
my  respected  Jesuit,  and  to  obey  him  in  everything. 

When  I  went  to  him  he  sat  writing  at  his  table, 
and  looked  up  at  me  in  the  deepest  astonishment, 
saying  slowly,  "  Does  God  send  you  to  me,  my  dear, 
dear  daughter  ?  I  have  been  occupying  myself  with 
you  most  insistently  for  hours." 

He  took  my  hand,  told  me  to  sit  beside  him  and 
continued,  "  Poor  child !  You  are  so  young,  so 
unprotected,  exposed  to  every  temptation,  yet  so 
beautiful   and  fascinating,  besides  being  so  sensual 

205 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

and  of  such  a  tender  disposition.     What  is  to  become 
of  it  all  ?     Poor  unhappy  child  ! " 

The  tears  came  into  my  eyes.  Unhappy  indeed, 
that  I  was  !  But  how  did  he  know  it  all  ?  It  was 
this  very  thing  that  I  had  come  here  to  tell  him,  to 
confess  to  him,  and  ask  his  advice. 

For  a  time  he  was  silent,  then  continued  :  "  Yes, 
my  dear  child,  the  world  is  dreadful.  An  unprotected 
woman  is  exposed  to  calumny  as  a  flower  is  to  the 
bees.  And  you  cannot  marry  again  at  once,  either. 
I  was  thinking  and  wondering  how  we  all  can  help 
you — you  whom  we  love  so  much"  (who  the  "a//" 
were  I  did  not  know). 

I  listened  to  him,  hung  on  his  words  !  But  now 
he  was  silent.  At  last  I  came  out  with  my  question  : 
"  What  was  I  to  do  in  regard  to  Prince  Carlo  ?  " 

He  looked  at  me  in  astonishment.  "  What  ?  I 
know  that  he  loves  you,"  he  said  smiling,  "but  he 
fears  that  you  do  not  reciprocate  his  feelings,  for 
you  repulse  him  so.  Is  he  right,  or  dare  I  tell 
him  anything  to  console  him  ? " 

"Ah,  it  is  just  that,"  I  exclaimed;  "I  have  a 
certain  feeling  for  him — no  love,  but — I  have  been  a 
widow  for  so  short  a  time,  I  am  afraid  this  is  a  sin  ?  " 

What  now  followed  was  the  quintessence  of 
Jesuitical  morals  that  one  could  imagine.  At  that 
time  it  seemed  to  me  the  highest  worldly  wisdom. 

"Ah,  child.  It  is  just  that  what  I  mean.  You 
cannot  go  on  like  this ;  the  world  would  soon  talk, 
and  that  must  be  avoided.  Everything  is  only  so 
dreadful  because  you  stand  quite  alone  in  the  world. 
Your  parents  have  behaved  disgracefully  to  you. 
There  is  no  protection  to  be  found  there.  If  you 
were  but  Catholic  the  case  would  be  quite  simple. 
We  would  take  you  into  our  care,  as  we  have  done 
in  the  case  of  your  dear,  beautiful  friend,  Mrs.  W. — 
you  know  about  it — then  all  would  be  easy.  But 
you  have  just  contemplated  a  change  in  your  religion 
in  wishing    to  become    Greek    Orthodox   Catholic. 

206 


JESUITICAL  MORALS 

The  death  of  your  poor  husband  occurred  before  its 
consummation,  so  of  course  you  will  not  care  to  go 
over  immediately  to  our  Church.  I  understand  this. 
You  care  nothing,  as  you  say,  for  the  outward  forms 
of  religion.  The  Protestant  faith  can  mean  nothing 
to  you,  which  is  quite  natural  with  such  an  artistic 
nature  as  yours ;  its  very  forms  must  repulse  you. 

He  gave  me  no  time  to  answer,  but  went  on : 
"  Do  you  see,  my  daughter,  a  love-affair  with  Prince 
Carlo  would  not  matter.  He  is  such  a  good,  pious 
son  of  our  Church,  and  is  especially  under  the  pro- 
tection of  the  Society  of  Jesus.  No  one  could 
consider  it  a  sin  on  your  part,  I  least  of  all,  who  hear 
such  dreadful  things  in  the  confessional.  However 
bad  a  sin  may  be,  I  have  always  heard  a  worse  one. 
The  short  duration  of  your  widowhood  does  not 
matter  in  the  least ;  you  are  not  created  to  live  in 
abstinence,  so  a  little  sooner  or  later  would  be  all 
the  same.  The  main  thing  is  to  avoid  scandal. 
Will  you  follow  my  advice  implicitly  ? " 

"  I  came  here  for  that." 

"  Well,  go  now,  in  two  days  we  will  talk  it  over 
again." 

I  went,  half  glad  to  have  shifted  all  responsibility 
on  such  clever  shoulders,  half  worried  as  to  what 
would  happen  later. 

Next  time,  my  adviser  disclosed  his  plans  still 
further. 

It  would  not  be  difficult  for  me  to  give  up  the 
Protestant  Church,  and  I  could  easily  place  myself 
under  the  protection  of  the  Society  of  Jesus.  The 
advantages  that  would  accrue  to  me  from  this  were 
too  immense  to  be  even  imagined  by  me. 

First  of  all  absolute  protection  against  all  evil 
talk,  for  under  the  protection  of  such  wise  people, 
much  might  be  carried  out  that  would  otherwise  be 
impossible. 

Erotic  things  were  anyhow  of  no  consequence. 
One  could  be  a  very  eminent  person,  yet  remain  a 

207 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

slave  to  one's  senses,  provided  no  one  else  suffered 
through  it ;  as  in  the  case  of  adultery  or  rape,  pardon 
could  easily  be  obtained.  The  chief  thing  was 
absolute  obedience  to  the  advice  given  one  by  the 
priests. 

And  to  conclude,  I  had  just  seen  during  these 
last  weeks  how  necessary  good  advice  was.  I  had 
not  hitherto  belonged  to  his  Church,  nevertheless  I 
had  turned  to  him  because  in  the  Protestant  Church 
there  is  no  such  medium  for  spiritual  protection, 
which  is  so  necessary  for  weak,  erring  man. 

"  Another  thing  must  be  considered  in  your  case, 
my  dear  daughter,"  continued  the  priest.  "You 
told  me  about  the  folly  your  father  committed 
when  he  made  no  marriage  contract  for  you,  and  as 
the  Racowitzas  leave  you  absolutely  without  means, 
you  are  entirely  dependent  on  that  which  your  own 
family  will  allow  you  in  the  way  of  money." 

Here  he  smiled  kindly,  and  took  my  hand. 
"Well,  I  have  seen  enough,  my  dear  daughter,  to 
show  me  that  you  have  very  expensive  tastes,  and  if 
matters  remain  as  they  are,  you  will  soon  get  into 
great  difficulties.  Under  our  protection  you  need 
fear  nothing  of  all  this.  If  you  consider  it  advisable 
to  arrange  your  life  in  Paris,  Vienna,  or  St.  Peters- 
burg (you  could  choose  where  you  would  prefer  to 
be) ,  then  unlimited  means  would  be  at  your  disposal, 
and  you  need  deny  yourself  nothing  in  the  way 
of  luxury,  and  could  have  everything  that  passed 
through  this  pretty  head  of  yours.  .  .  .  Now,  adieu 
for  to-day.  I  am  busy,  but  the  day  after  to-morrow 
I  shall  expect  to  see  you  about  the  same  time." 

Excited,  delighted,  and  in  the  most  exalted  frame 
of  mind,  I  reached  my  room. 

It  was  natural  that  from  the  very  first  the  priest 
had  made  absolute  secrecy  a  condition  of  all  we  had 
talked  about. 

Prince  Carlo  must  that  day  have  received  more 
favourable  reports  about  his  suit.     Yet,  strange  to 

208 


JESUIT  PROPOSALS 

say,  it  was  only  now  and  then  that  I  felt  attracted 
towards  him — at  other  times  he  repulsed  me. 

On  the  third  day,  when  I  again  went  to  Pere  L., 
I  had  almost  made  up  my  mind  to  say  "  yes  "  to  his 
proposals. 

Directly  we  met,  he  said  impressively,  "  To-day 
we  must  arrive  at  a  decision.  Easter  is  approaching, 
and  I  must  go  to  Rome  to  the  Holy  Father.  Such 
a  splendid  opportunity  for  you  will  never  occur  again. 
I  have  already  written  to  my  friend,  the  abbess  of 
one  of  the  most  elegant  cloisters  of  Rome,  to  ask  if 
you  can  at  once  be  accepted  there  for  retreat.  You 
could  travel  at  the  end  of  this  week,  couldn't  you  ? " 

I  nodded  affirmatively. 

Smiling  once  more,  he  said,  "  Prince  Carlo  must 
do  penance  at  Easter,  and  when  you  come  out  of 
your  retreat  you  will  see  him  again." 

I  was  obliged  to  laugh  at  this  mixture  of  church 
and  very  worldly  wisdom.  My  lightness  of  heart 
amused  him,  and,  laughing  also,  he  said,  "  See,  we 
will  arrange  it  like  this.  Everything  can  be  managed 
if  it  is  only  cleverly  and  wisely  done.  Now,  however, 
we  must  work.  At  Easter  you  must  make  your 
confession  of  faith  to  the  holy  fathers.  This  will  be, 
at  the  same  time,  a  revenge  on  your  own  father,  who 
so  brutally  destroyed  your  life's  happiness." 

I  hesitated  for  the  first  time  since  I  had  entered 
into  the  compact  with  the  clever  priest.  If  this  last 
sentence  had  remained  unuttered,  who  knows  how 
my  whole  life  would  have  been  formed  by  him  ? 

I  gave  no  definite  promise.  Once  more  he 
painted  to  me  all  the  glorious  possibilities  of  my 
future,  then  I  departed. 

Henceforth  we  were  to  meet  daily  for  serious 
religious  instruction  ;  but  I  returned  home  pensive, 
reflective,  and  disturbed,  deep  in  doubt. 

My  love  for  my  father  had  certainly  been  killed 
by  his  behaviour  in  the  Lassalle  affair  ;  but  to  take 
revenge  on  him — I  was  not  capable  of  this  1     This 

209  p 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

one  expression  awakened  in  me  all  kinds  of  things 
that  must  be  silent,  if  I  had  to  serve  the  aims  of  the 
Jesuit. 

In  internal  conflict,  I  drove  to  the  churchyard  to 
my  Yanko's  grave.  There  I  saw  clearly  before  me 
all  I  ought  to  do.  It  called  aloud  within  me, 
"  Away,  away — far  from  temptation  !  " 

Certainly  the  idea  of  the  promised  wealth  attracted 
me,  and  the  prospective  power  and  social  position. 
But  I  felt  the  temptation  more  as  a  tiresome  burden 
which  my  whole  freedom-loving  nature  could  not 
bear,  and  must  shake  off.  On  the  way  homeward  I 
telegraphed  to  a  friend  in  Paris,  asking  her  to  send 
me  a  wire  summoning  me  to  her  at  once. 

A  few  hours  later,  when  I  had  this  in  hand,  I  told 
Th^rese  to  pack  my  trunk,  bade  farewell  to  Mrs. 
Grymes,  thanking  her  for  her  kindness,  and  took  the 
first  express  train  to  Paris,  fleeing  thus  from  the 
Jesuit's  promises,  yet  inwardly  trembling  lest  their 
ban  and  curse  should  reach  me  there. 

Thus  I  arrived  in  Paris.  There,  as  well  as  the 
friend  of  my  youth  already  mentioned,  I  had  another 
at  Napoleon's  Court  —  the  Due  de  Piennes,  who 
occupied  a  high  position  in  the  service  of  the  Empress 
Eugenie. 

I  wished  to  place  myself  under  his  especial  pro- 
tection. I  could  not  find  out  the  Duke's  private 
address  from  my  friend,  Baroness  Lucy  K.,  and  knew 
of  no  other  means  of  getting  it,  except  going  direct 
to  the  Tuileries. 

It  was  rather  a  mad  idea,  but  it  was  successful. 
I  inquired  the  way  to  the  Empress's  apartments  from 
one  sentinel  to  another.  When  I  reached  them, 
several  chamberlains  looked  astonished,  but  admiring, 
and  gave  me  the  news  that  the  Duke  had  gone  out 
driving  with  the  Empress,  but  I  could  write  him  a 
note,  which  one  of  them  would  be  sure  to  give  him. 
When  I  had  mentioned  my  name,  they  expressed  the 
hope  that  at  the  end  of  my  mourning  I  would  allow 

210 


CARPEAUX 

myself  to  be  introduced  at  Court,  that  in  the  Due 
de  Piennes  I  had  just  the  right  friend  for  all  this, 
and  that,  therefore,  they  might  all  hope  to  see  me 
again. 

That  very  afternoon  the  Duke,  who  was  an  intimate 
friend  of  my  parents,  drove  to  see  me,  and  at  once 
expressed  to  me  the  warmest  sympathy.  He 
suggested  introducing  me  to  the  Empress,  and 
said  that  later  he  would  make  me  a  big  position  at 
Court.  Then  I  told  him  the  affair  with  my  Jesuit, 
and  a  long,  serious  face  was  the  result.  The  Duke, 
after  various  considerations,  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  I  was  to  remain  hidden,  so  to  say,  in  Paris  for 
some  weeks,  and  he  would  give  the  Emperor  a  hint 
that  he,  in  case  of  need,  could  protect  me  against 
any  act  of  vengeance  on  their  part,  but  that  absolutely 
nothing  could  be  done  with  the  Empress,  who  was  a 
blind  adherent  of  the  Jesuits.  The  only  really  safe 
thing  for  me  to  do  was  to  go  to  Berlin,  and  to  place 
myself  under  the  immediate  protection  of  Bismarck. 

Now  I  was  really  a  little  terrified,  especially  as 
De  Piennes  made  me  promise  never  to  drive  out 
without  him.  He  always  fetched  me  in  a  closed 
carriage,  and  looked  after  me  most  anxiously. 
Although  I  shortened  my  stay  in  Paris  in  conse- 
quence of  this,  I  had  nevertheless  some  very  interest- 
ing times  there. 

Through  the  Duke,  I  learned  to  know  the  famous 
sculptor  Carpeaux,  and  he  at  once  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  model  my  bust.  I  sat  for  him  for  this, 
and  thus  had  a  glimpse  of  the  most  original  artist  life 
I  had  ever  seen.  (I  may  mention  here  that  later  on 
he  used  this  model  for  his  famous  "  Genius  of 
Dancing"  in  the  big  group  on  the  Paris  Opera 
House  ;  later  on,  it  was  ruined  by  zealots  with  ink, 
but  now  it  is  cleaned,  and  gleams  there  in  pristine 
whiteness.) 

Carpeaux,  as  I  said,  was  very  original.  A  little 
ugly  man,  almost  deformed,   with  a  wild  head  and 

211 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

beard,  he  lived  in  his  hideous  atelier,  and  in  a  little 
room  beneath  it,  in  dreadful  dirt  and  disorder. 
Withal,  he  loved  luxury,  beauty,  and  prosperity,  and 
was  enchanted  with  all  the  evidences  of  these  when 
he  visited  me  or  the  Duke. 

When  I  asked  him  why  he  lived  like  this,  in 
spite  of  his  big  income  and  fine  tastes,  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  exclaimed,  M  Well,  how  could 
I  manage  otherwise  ?  There  are  always  many 
colleagues  who  are  in  need  of  money.  There  isn't 
enough  for  everything." 

De  Piennes  once  had  a  passing  fancy  to  marry  me 
to  the  great  artist,  but  when  I  invited  him  to  come 
and  inspect  the  sleeping,  living,  and  dining  apartments 
of  our  honoured  master,  and  the  state  of  his  combs, 
brushes,  and  washstand,  it  was  sufficient  to  make  him 
give  up  the  idea  once  for  all.  Later  on,  Master 
Carpeaux  married  a  very  aristocratic  lady,  and  eventu- 
ally led  a  sensible  existence — even  a  luxurious  life. 

Even  now  this  atelier  soon  looked  very  different, 
for  the  famous  painter  Henner  had  asked  me  to  sit 
for  my  picture,  also  Leroux,  and  several  others  whose 
names  I  have  forgotten. 

I  declared  they  could  all  paint  me,  if  they  did  it 
at  Carpeaux's — while  he  modelled  my  bust. 

They  agreed  to  this,  most  of  them  wanting  a 
sketch  merely  for  my  colouring,  chiefly  that  of  my 
hair,  which  I  wore  during  the  whole  of  my  youth 
arranged  in  Greek  curls. 

It  was  very  funny.  Carpeaux  declared  the 
painters  were  much  better  off  than  he  was,  as  they 
could  give  my  colouring  —  the  most  characteristic 
thing  about  me,  while  old  Henner  wildly  gesticulated 
with  his  palette  and  brush,  and  declared,  "  You  don't 
know  what  you  are  talking  about,  Carpeaux.  Those 
colours  cannot  possibly  be  reproduced  in  painting. 
To  my  idea,  a  painter  has  no  advantage  in  trying  to 
paint  you,  except  that  of  seeing  his  own  daubs  and 
acknowledging    his    inefficiency.      But    a    sculptor ! 

212 


CARPEAUX 

Ah,  if  I  were  that,  I  would  bring  the  Greek  —  or 
is  it  Germanic — in  short,  Aryan  race,  to  expression 
in  its  perfection  and  form !  If  you  can't  do  it,  then 
you  are — well,  just  a  mechanic,  and  no  artist  by  the 
grace  of  God." 

None  of  the  pictures  were  really  like  me,  and  my 
very  witty  friend,  Baroness  R.,  declared  when  she  was 
once  admitted  to  see  them,  "  The  atelier  looks  like  a 
well-kept  kitchen,  with  paintings  of  all  sorts  of  copper 
kettles,  but  not  once  the  head  of  my  Helene  ! " 

Carpeaux's  bust  alone  found  favour. 

With  him,  the  Duke,  and  the  good  but  coarse  old 
Henner,  I  often  visited  the  galleries,  and  of  course  by 
preference  the  Louvre.  Here  among  the  greatest  old 
masters,  and  in  company  of  my  new  ones,  I  laid  the 
foundation  to  my  comprehension  of  art  that  later  on 
enabled  me  in  America  to  work  as  art  critic  for  the 
great  newspapers. 

Therefore,  I  owe  to  this  episode  much  that  was 
beautiful  and  instructive. 


213 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

As  already  stated,  in  spite  of  such  pleasant  hours,  I 
did  not  feel  myself  safe  in  Paris  from  the  revenge  of 
the  Jesuits,  and  preferred  going  to  Berlin.  Here  I 
did  not  remain  long,  but  foolishly  followed  the  request 
of  my  mother,  who  wrote  a  long  letter  full  of  phrases 
persuading  me  to  return  to  my  parents'  roof — a  plan 
that  ended  most  disastrously,  and  led  to  a  breach  with 
the  entire  family  that  never  was  healed. 

During  my  stay  of  several  weeks  in  my  parents' 
house,  two  events  occurred  of  interest  to  me.  One 
was  my  acquaintanceship  that  later  ripened  into  friend- 
ship with  Franz  von  Lenbach.  It  arose  from  the  fact 
of  his  wishing  to  paint  me  for  the  Schack  Museum. 

It  happened  that  Schack  was  a  very  intimate 
friend  of  my  father's,  and  had  confided  to  my  mother 
that  he  felt  very  lonely  in  his  big  beautiful  house. 
She  at  once  got  it  into  her  head  to  marry  me  to  him. 
We  were  often  brought  together.  I  thought  him 
awful.  But  as  usual  this  was  of  no  consequence. 
The  affair  went  on  without  my  being  considered. 

The  Count  was  a  very  amiable,  highly  educated 
man,  critic,  artist,  poet,  and  collector,  as  all  the  world 
knows  by  his  literary  works  and  his  famous  gallery  in 
Munich.  In  my  eyes,  he  was  old  and  ugly  as  Don 
Quixote,  stammering  and  often  ridiculous,  and  it  was 
an  absolute  impossibility  for  me  to  contemplate  him 
as  a  husband. 

He  ordered  my  picture  to  be  painted  by  Lenbach, 
and  I  sat  a  few  times  for  it.     Then  came  the  final 

214 


AN  AMUSING  EPISODE 

catastrophe  with  my  parents,  which  arose  from  the 
fact  that,  for  political  reasons  directed  against  my 
father,  the  whole  of  the  Lassalle  affair  was  dished 
up  again.  Fearing  scenes,  I  preferred  to  leave  the 
parents'  roof  and  Munich  before  they  occurred,  and 
returned  once  more  to  Berlin — this  time  with  the  firm 
resolution  of  going  on  the  stage. 

I  had  heard  nothing  more  of  the  Jesuits.  In 
Germany  there  was  no  field  for  them  and  their 
machinations. 

For  some  time  I  devoted  myself  to  my  dramatic 
studies,  became  friends  with  some  of  the  most  admired 
and  honoured  artists,  also  with  the  General  Intendant 
von  Hulsen,  who  assisted  me  in  every  way  in  my  first 
efforts. 

A  funny  episode  is  connected  with  those  theatre 
days.  My  friends  suggested  that  I  should  appear  at 
supper  at  our  witty  friend's,  Frau  Grua,  in  various 
wigs — successively  blond,  black,  and  white,  in  order  to 
judge  how  I  looked  without  my  own  hair.  I  chose 
first  a  lovely  fair  one,  and  looked  a  little  faded  in  it, 
but  very  young.  At  midnight  my  maid  fetched  me, 
and  I  left  the  hospitable  house  earlier  than  the  others, 
as  I  was  a  little  tired.  It  was  a  clear  mild  night,  and 
I  preferred  going  on  foot,  as  I  did  always  in  such  fine 
weather. 

We  had  only  gone  a  few  steps,  when  a  very 
elegant  young  man  emerged  from  a  dark  corner  into 
the  light  and  said  to  me  in  broken  English-German, 
"Madam,  I  have  waited  in  vain  for  you  all  the 
evening.     At  last  you  have  come  ! " 

I  looked  at  him  in  amazement  and  a  little  terrified, 
and  stepping  back  said,  "  Sir,  I  must  beg  you  to  go. 
I  make  no  acquaintances  in  the  street." 

Then  my  maid  came  and  explained. 

"Directly  Madam  left  this  evening,  this  gentle- 
man came  with  Baron  W.  and  did  not  go  away,  but 
said  he  was  going  to  marry  you,  and  so  he  waited  till 
you  returned." 

215 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

This  was  too  much  for  me,  especially  as  the 
stranger  added,  u  Yes,  yes  ! " 

Baron  W.  was  a  rather  good  friend  of  mine,  whom 
I  considered  a  very  sensible  person,  so  I  understood 
the  situation  less  and  less. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  nonsense?"  I 
exclaimed  in  indignation,  but  my  stranger  continued 
calmly,  "  Yes,  yes  1  Baron  W.  is  my  brother-in-law. 
I  am  Lord  B.  I  saw  a  most  beautiful  coloured 
picture  of  you  in  England,  and  I  said  to  myself,  *  I 
will  marry  this  woman  with  the  golden  hair.  I  have 
plenty  of  the  other  kind  of  gold  to  lay  at  her  feet — 
and '" 

Suddenly  the  comic  side  of  the  situation  made 
me  burst  out  laughing ;  I  threw  my  head  back  and 
said  mockingly,  "  What  do  you  mean  ? — I  have  fair 
hair."  He  looked  at  my  hair  in  the  light  of  the  gas- 
lamp,  hesitated,  and  said,  "  But  you  are  Helene 
Racowitza  ? " 

"Yes,  certainly." 

"  Well,  then,  it  does  not  matter  ;  I  will  marry  you 
all  the  same." 

"But  I  won't  marry  you.  You  are  a  madman," 
was  my  indignant  reply. 

He  did  not  let  himself  be  disturbed  in  the  least, 
but  told  me  he  was  very  rich  and  could  fulfil  every 
one  of  my  wishes  (he  was  handsome,  too,  with  true 
racial  English  beauty).  I  should  have  to  decide 
quickly,  as  he  only  had  thirty-six  hours'  leave.  He 
was  an  officer  in  Her  Majesty's  Horse  Guards. 

"  You  can  be  what  you  like,"  I  exclaimed,  "  but 
leave  me  in  peace.  1  want  no  madman,  and  I  don't 
mean  to  marry  any  one.     I  am  going  on  the  stage." 

"  Very  well,  if  you  like  acting  so  much  (we  spoke 
English),  I  will  have  a  private  theatre  built  for  you, 
and  you  can  play  before  the  best  English  society  as 
much  as  you  like." 

"  No !  I  will  not.  I  want  you  to  leave  me  in 
peace." 

216 


A  PERSISTENT  SUITOR 

"  1  will  marry  you  all  the  same,"  he  declared, 
much  to  my  indignation. 

We  had  reached  my  door,  and  he  said,  "  To- 
morrow at  ten  o'clock  I  shall  be  here  again,  for  I  have 
very  little  time."  I  had  the  door  shut  in  his  face, 
and  scolded  my  maid  for  having  let  him  in  at  all. 
Nothing  was  to  be  done  now.  Next  morning  I  drove 
quite  early  to  a  friend,  Baroness  B.,  and  said  that  I 
would  not  be  home  all  day.  I  heard  later  that  Lord 
B.  came  punctually  at  10  o'clock,  and,  after  liberally 
bribing  my  servants,  sat  himself  comfortably  down  at 
home  in  order  to  study  my  tastes. 

As  my  maid  did  not  know  where  I  had  gone  to, 
he  at  least  could  not  follow  me. 

But  one  cannot  escape  one's  fate  !  At  Baron  B.'s 
there  was  a  young  Englishman  of  good  family  en 
pension,  learning  German.  He  was  to  dine  at  six  at 
the  British  Ambassador's,  and  we  had  all  agreed  to 
meet  later  in  a  box  at  the  Victoria  Theatre. 

After  the  first  act,  the  box  door  opened,  and  there 
entered  Lord  S.  with  my  tormentor  Lord  B. 

"  This  is  fate,"  he  exclaimed  joyfully,  when  he  saw 
my  puzzled  face.  "  This  is  how  it  happened.  Fred 
here  is  a  cousin  of  mine.  We  met  at  dinner  at  the 
Embassy,  and  at  dessert  he  took  out  the  latest 
photograph  of  you  and  showed  it.  Well,  you  can 
imagine  that  I  pumped  him  at  once  as  to  whether  he 
knew  you,  where  you  were,  etc.  Well !  here  we 
are,  and  I  shall  marry  you  ! " 

Angry  as  I  was,  I  was  obliged  to  laugh  at  his 
cool  persistence.  Lord  S.  explained  to  me  that  my 
courtier  was  all  he  professed  to  be,  and  advised  me  to 
consider  the  matter  seriously.     But  I  remained  firm. 

My  "  madman,"  as  we  all  called  him,  raved  more 
than  ever  on  seeing  my  red-gold  hair,  as  he  thought  it 
even  more  beautiful  than  he  had  imagined.  He 
continually  worried  me  to  say  "  yes,"  for  now  he  had 
only  a  few  more  hours.  I  answered  nothing  but, 
u  You  are  mad,  and  I  won't  marry  a  madman." 

217 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

Next  morning  Baron  W.  was  announced,  and  he 
asked  me  seriously  why  I  would  not  accept  his 
brother-in-law. 

"Surely  you  cannot  take  such  nonsense  seriously," 
I  said  ;  "  I  am  not  a  woman  to  be  disposed  of  in  this 
forcible  manner.  I  am  the  one  to  choose.  Maybe  I 
am  losing  the  best  chance  of  my  life,  but  I  have 
hitherto  never  allowed  myself  to  be  influenced  by 
material  reasons.  I  feel  nothing  for  your  mad,  obstinate 
relation,  and — I  am  going  on  the  stage ;  therefore 
leave  me  in  peace,"  Once  more  Lord  B.  tried  to 
persuade  me,  and  then  this  episode  was  over. 

Others  soon  followed.  In  the  midst  of  my  studies 
there  arrived  a  letter  signed  H.  v.  B. — Colonel  on 
the  General  Staff.  It  asked  whether  I  would  allow 
the  writer  to  visit  me  on  important  business. 

At  that  time  every  post  brought  me  quantities  of 
letters  from  men — each  upon  some  different  pretext 
— wishing  to  make  my  acquaintance. 

In  all  these  epistles  the  reason  was  so  palpable 
that  I  laughed  at  them  with  my  intimate  friends, 
among  whom  was  an  amiable  young  aunt  of  mine. 

Therefore,  in  spite  of  the  illustrious  signature,  I 
was  somewhat  suspicious,  and  sought  counsel  with 
one  of  my  uncles — the  husband  of  the  little  aunt 
already  mentioned.  She  thought  I  ought  to  hear 
what  this  gentleman  had  to  say,  and  so  it  was ! 

A  very  ugly,  elderly  man  came,  but  he  was 
pleasant,  witty,  clever,  well-mannered — indeed  one  of 
the  most  interesting  men  I  have  ever  met.  Notwith- 
standing his  ugliness,  he  looked  very  imposing  in  his 
full-dress  uniform.  He  expressed  his  pleasure  at 
my  permitting  him  to  make  his  acquaintance,  and 
conversation  turned  upon  all  kinds  of  things,  until  at 
last  I  asked : 

"  But,  Colonel,  what  was  it  that  you  so  particularly 
wished  to  tell  me  ? " 

He  hesitated,  became  slightly  confused,  and 
stammered  out  the  following  : 

218 


POLITICAL  OVERTURES 

"Yes,  in  fact  I  come  for  some  one  else,  and 
Bismarck  thought  I  ought  to  try  and  find  out  whether 
1  La  belle  Helene '  is  a  good  patriot." 

I  had  to  laugh,  but  as  I  had  no  idea  what  he 
meant,  I  replied,  "  Oh,  no  !  I  am  much  too  cosmo- 
politan, and  really  hardly  know  in  what  direction  I 
ought  to  be  patriotic,  whether  towards  Bavaria  or 
Turkey — for  you  must  know  that,  as  a  Wallachian 
widow,  I  am  a  Turkish  subject.  One  might  say  of 
me  the  same  as  of  the  'Madchen  aus  der  Fremde' 
— *  one  does  not  know  whence  she  came.' ' 

"  Well,"  replied  Herr  von  B.,  "  you  are  really 
German.  Could  you  not  feel  enthusiastic  about 
German  politics  ? " 

"  No  doubt  in  a  fugitive  sort  of  way.  But  why  ? 
I  intend  becoming  an  artiste,  and  they  need  not  trouble 
themselves  about  politics  and  the  interests  of  their 
country." 

"But  if  you  render  your  fatherland  great  services?" 

"  Which  fatherland  ?     Turkey  ? " 

"  No,  Germany,  of  course  !  The  fatherland  of  the 
man  whom  you  loved — of  Lassalle." 

"  Certainly  I  should  be  pleased  to,  but  how  can  I, 
an  ignorant  woman  ?  " 

"  Not  so  ignorant  as  all  that ;  you  are  so  clever 
and  witty." 

"  I  ?  Clever  ?  I  ?  If  I  only  were,  I  should  not 
have  made  such  a  mess  of  my  life.  No,  certainly 
I  am  not  clever  ! " 

"  Other  causes  led  to  this,  chiefly  because  you  are 
without  protection,  almost  without  means,  and 
exposed  to  the  world's  criticism.  If  you  but  decided 
to  render  your  fatherland  certain  services,  it  would 
put  great  means  at  your  disposal — above  all,  power 
and  social  position  with  great  influence.  Consider 
whether  you  would  not  like  this." 

We  had  discussed  this  laughingly— almost  jokingly, 
but  now  I  said,  "Do  you  know,  Baron,  that  only 
a   few   months   ago  I    received   an   almost  identical 

219 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

proposition   from   another   source.      Do   you   mean 
simply  that  you  wish  to  make  me  a  political  spy  ?  " 

"How  can  you  use  such  a  horrid  word?  The 
question  is " 

"  Yes,  yes — of  services  I  am  to  render  the  father- 
land. The  German  for  this  is  *  spy,'  or  political  agent, 
just  as  the  other  would  have  been  Jesuitical  agent. 
My  goodness,  Colonel !  I  do  not  exactly  say  *  no ' ! 
My  life  is  so  manquee  that  a  little  more  or  less  can't 
matter  much ;  but  one  thing  I  can  tell  you,  and  that 
is,  that  I  am  not  in  any  way  fitted  for  such  a  thing." 

"  Why  ? — with  your  beauty,  your  mind,  the  name 
you  bear  ? " 

"Yes!  The  name  I  bear!  If  it  had  not  been 
for  my  fanatical  love  of  truth ;  if  I  had  not  told  my 
mother  everything  when  I  returned  that  time  from 
the  Rigi;  if  I  had  only  understood  how  to  lie,  or 
even  how  to  be  silent,  then  perhaps  to-day  I  should 
be  bearing  the  name  of  Lassalle,  two  noble  creatures 
would  still  be  alive,  and " 

Tears  were  near  and  the  old  gentleman  bent  over 
my  hand  and  went  away  with  the  words,  "  I  honour 
you  deeply  for  this  glimpse  of  your  soul.  Permit  me 
to  come  again  ;  we  can  talk  of  all  this  later." 

Baron  von  B.'s  next  visit  was  a  more  hearty  and 
friendly  one.  He  tried  to  tempt  me  with  his  forecast 
of  a  great  political  future.  He  left  me  the  choice 
between  Petersburg  and  Paris.  I  had  to  laugh  again. 
He  was  offering  me  the  same  allurements  as  all  the 
others ! 

"Well!"  he  continued,  "let  us  suggest  Paris, 
with  accounts  at  the  best  dressmakers,  modistes — in 
short,  everything  that  can  charm  a  woman's  heart." 

"But  what  if  this  woman's  heart  should  be 
enthralled  most  by  Napoleon  ? "  I  replied.  "  You 
know  in  his  strange  coldness  he  has  already  been 
dangerous  to  many  a  pretty  woman.  In  that  case, 
I  should  throw  over  your  bald-headed  Bismarck  with 

all  his  state  arts  and  crafts — and " 

220 


BISMARCK'S  CRITICISM 

"Be  quiet!  You  make  me  shudder  at  the 
thought,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Come !  let  us  look  at 
the  difficult  task  of  deciphering.  Surely  that  interests 
you  ? " 

"Yes,  it  does." 

He  had  brought  me  several  of  the  cipher  systems 
then  in  vogue.  I  studied  them  industriously,  but 
after  a  time  the  whole  thing  seemed  so  unsuited  to 
me,  that  I  declared  I  had  had  enough  of  it  all.  We 
could  remain  good  friends,  Colonel  von  B.  and  I,  but 
we  would  bury  the  idea  of  political  spying. 

When  I  had  sworn  this  most  solemnly,  one  day 
Herr  von  B.  brought  me  a  large  sheet  of  paper  and 
said,  "  Now,  just  guess  what  this  is  ! " 

"Of  course,"  I  answered  teasingly,  "my  spy 
diploma,  drawn  up  by  the  hand  of  the  great  Bismarck 
himself." 

He  laughed  at  this.  "  Not  so  very  wrong,"  he 
exclaimed.  "  It  is  the  report  that  I  sent  in  to 
Bismarck  of  my  impressions  of  you,  you  magician, 
after  our  first  meeting." 

"  Oh  !  How  nice  1   I  am  so  curious.    Read,  read  !  " 

"Not  a  bit  of  it  I  But  you  may  read  what 
Bismarck  wrote  under  it  with  his  famous  giant 
pencil.  By  showing  you  this,  I  place  myself  and  my 
political  reputation  in  your  little  hands." 

"Well?" 

Silently,  smilingly,  he  passed  me  the  paper. 

I  read  in  the  powerful  man's  large  handwriting 
the  following — that  is  to  say,  the  sense,  for  I  do  not 
exactly  recall  the  words  : 

"  Very  good  !  but  it  is  the  report  of  a  Primaner 
in  love,  not  that  of  a  serious  officer  of  the  general 
staff.— Von  B." 

We  both  laughed  heartily,  and  Herr  von  B.  utilised 
these  "confidences"  to  become  himself  very  "con- 
fidential" during  the  time  our  friendship  lasted.  It 
was  only  when  he  wished  to  overstep  this,  that  I  was 
unfortunately  compelled  to  break  off  relations  with 

221 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

my  clever  but  ugly  friend.  With  the  best  of  in- 
tentions, my  keen  sense  of  beauty  did  not  allow  me 
to  contemplate  him  as  a  lover. 

But  I  shall  always  remember  him  with  gratitude 
and  affection,  for  he  was  kind  and  self-sacrificing 
to  me. 

In  those  days  I  visited  the  interesting  houses  of 
Spielhagen,  Auerbach,  and  J.  Rodenberg,  as  indeed 
did  every  one  belonging  to  the  literary  circle  of  Berlin. 
But  so  many  others  have  described  these,  that  I  could 
tell  but  little  new  of  them. 

It  was  a  lively,  interesting  time  for  those  who 
stood  in  the  midst  of  it  all ;  but  the  works  and 
doings  of  those  whom  we  then  admired  as  the 
great  ones  are  now  looked  upon  so  slightingly  by  the 
"moderns"  that  it  is  hardly  worth  while  talking 
about  them. 

A  glimpse  of  that  time  may  perhaps  be  given  by 
reading  a  letter  that  I  only  received  later,  but  one 
which  has  kept  the  "perfume"  of  1867-68. 

It  is  from  Wilhelmina  v.  Hillern,  the  well-known 
authoress  of  And  yet  she  comes,  and  other  novels,  and 
is  dated  Oberammergau,  1894  : 

I  remember  still  with  deep  interest  the  soiree  at  Auerbach's 
in  the  year  ''QG  or  '67,  when  I  first  knew  you,  though  you  did 
not  know  me.  At  that  time  there  was  nothing  about  me  that 
could  have  attracted  your  attention — not  even  a  name.  But  I 
never  could  forget  you.  You  were  wearing  a  golden  peacock 
in  your  red-gold  hair  ;  you  looked  altogether  like  molten  gold, 
a  mingling  of  metal  and  ivory,  and  the  flames  from  which  you 
were  poured  into  the  glorious  mould  played  still  around  you, 
breathing  their  glow  upon  your  cheeks  ! 

"  That  is  Helene  von  Donniges,"  said  Oppenheim  softly  to 
me.  "  Ah,"  I  said,  and  understood  all.  You  then  had  no  idea 
how  deeply  your  image  was  reflected  in  two  silent,  observing 
eyes,  and  how  firmly  these  held  it !  Beauty  is  a  parable  in  art, 
but  an  event  in  life.     One  does  not  forget  it. 

W.  v.  Hillern. 

This  poetic  letter  shows  how  admiration  could  be 

222 


PAUL  LINDAU 

unmixed  with  envy  in  those  days,  and  what  an 
aesthetic  tone  prevailed  in  the  salons.  During  my 
stay  in  Berlin  I  made  the  acquaintance,  and  later  on 
the  faithful  friendship,  of  Paul  Lindau.  It  began  in 
the  most  amusing  way.  In  the  salon  there  appeared 
monthly  striking  and  amusing  "Letters  of  a  small 
German  Burgher."  No  one  was  able  to  discover  who 
was  hidden  behind  this  pseudonym.  But  I  watched 
with  the  same  anticipation  as  did  all  those  of  any 
literary  interests  for  the  regular  appearance  of  this 
sharply  critical  and  splendidly  satirical  letter. 

A  great  press  fete  drew  near.  It  began  by  a 
premiere  of  Spiel hagen,  and  was  to  end  with  a  big 
supper. 

I  got  to  the  theatre  rather  early  and  took  my 
place  in  the  somewhat  dark  parquetloge  of  the  Royal 
Theatre.  Two  gentlemen  entered  the  same  box,  and 
seated  themselves  behind  me.  Before  us  the  public 
was  streaming  into  the  stalls. 

A  fusillade  of  jokes  about  the  people  coming 
in  came  from  one  of  my  neighbours.  I  listened, 
intensely  amused,  for  some  time,  when  suddenly  one 
of  his  remarks  made  me  jump  at  the  conclusion  that 
caused  me  to  exclaim  : 

"  You  are  the  German  Kleinstadter ! " 

"And  you  are  Helene  von  Donniges,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Certainly,  but  what  is  your  name,  you  witty 
Kleinstadter  ? " 

"  My  friends  call  me  Paul  Lindau." 

We  chatted  the  whole  evening,  and  later  on,  when 
he  had  to  return  to  Leipzig,  where  he  lived,  entered 
into  a  most  active  correspondence.  Finally  this 
developed  into  a  friendship  which  lasts  unchanged  to 
this  very  day. 

My  chief  occupation  was  in  preparing  for  the 
stage.  In  the  kindest  way  Herr  von  Hiilsen  had 
allowed  me  to  attend  all  the  rehearsals  at  the  Royal 
Theatre,  as  he  thought,  and  rightly,  that  this  was  of 

223 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

more  use  than  any  amount  of  dramatic  instruction. 
Although  I  studied  hard  in  other  ways,  the  rehearsals 
were  of  the  greatest  interest  to  me. 

Through  them  I  got  more  closely  acquainted  with 
all  the  stage  celebrities,  and  among  them  with  the 
then  quite  young  and  most  promising  Siegwart 
Friedmann.  His  personal  appearance  and  delightful 
acting  soon  captured  my  fancy.  A  sympathy  grew 
up  between  us  which  we  tried  to  seal  with — as  we 
then  thought — our  marriage  in  the  year  1868.  The 
strange  expression,  "  as  we  thought,"  has  reference  to 
the  following. 

As  a  Hungarian,  Siegwart  Friedmann  was  an 
Austrian  subject.  I,  as  a  Rumanian,  was  under 
Turkish  suzerainty.  In  neither  of  these  countries  to 
which  we  belonged  did  civil  marriage  exist,  and  yet 
the  Berlin  registry  office  united  us  without  publishing 
our  banns.  They  did  not  trouble  further,  and  con- 
sidered me  as  the  daughter  of  the  Bavarian  Minister 
and  him  a  Prussian  Court  actor. 

Thus  we  considered  ourselves  married  de  facto, 
and  lived  for  five  years  happily  together.  We 
loved  each  other  dearly,  and  are  even  to-day 
the  best  of  friends.  I  admired  his  frankness  and 
openness,  and  he  took  care  of  me  so  tenderly  that 
in  the  real  sense  of  the  word  he  "bore  me  upon 
his  hands." 

Under  his  direction  I  made  my  first  appearance 
on  the  stage  in  Schwerin  in  the  grand  ducal  Theatre 
Royal.  I  played  with  him  in  Maria  Stuai%  he 
being  Burleigh,  then  in  Countess  Orsina,  he  being 
Marinelli,  and  in  many  other  plays.  We  went  on 
tour  together  and  celebrated  mutual  triumphs,  emu- 
lating each  other,  rejoicing  in  each  other,  happy  in 
each  other's  successes. 

This  curious  being,  after  leaving  the  stage  for 
eighteen  years,  felt  impelled  to  return  to  it  when 
nearly  seventy,  and  has  still  a  great  success.  The 
critics  and  public  still  praise  his  youthful  appearance 

224 


DISSOLUTION  OF  MARRIAGE 

and  diction  and  his  charming  manner,  and  places  him 
still  on  the  highest  pinnacle  of  art. 

From  Schwerin  we  went  to  Berlin,  then  to  Vienna, 
where  we  spent  two  happy  years  under  Heinrich 
Laube's  direction. 

If  to-day  we  were  to  ask  each  other,  now  that  we 
are  old  people  and  yet  good  friends,  why  we  then 
parted,  I  fancy  that  neither  of  us  would  find  a 
plausible  reason.  It  was  mere  folly — like  much  in 
life — that  one  day  we  resolved  to  part.  Most  likely 
it  was  our  fate. 

We  were  not  to  find  peace  in  this  union,  nor  with 
ourselves. 

Now  I  recall  the  events  of  my  life  so  clearly,  I 
view  them  as  absolutely  necessary  to  the  eventful 
"  being  "  ;  so  that  I  only  smile  sadly  at  those  far-away 
days — but  never  in  anger. 

Now  something  peculiar  happened.  When  we 
got  to  the  lawyer's  he  said  to  us  shortly  that  we 
could  not  be  divorced,  as,  according  to  the  laws 
of  the  countries  we  belonged  to,  we  had  never 
been  married !  We  were  petrified  !  To  make  a 
long  story  short,  we  tried  in  every  conceivable  way 
to  have  our  marriage  legitimised,  although  we 
wished  to  dissolve  it,  but  all  officials  declared  the 
same  thing  to  us :  we  had  not  been  married.  We 
could  consider  ourselves  fortunate  that  we  had  no 
children,  as  they  would  have  been  illegitimate. 

Anyhow,  it  did  not  matter.  We  should  have  no 
bother  about  separating. 

I  had  to  take  the  name  of  my  first  husband, 
Racowitza,  and  kept  it  henceforth  as  my  stage  name, 
and  use  it  to-day  as  my  pseudonym. 

We  had  no  peace  until  we  received  from  the 
highest  quarters  the  declaration  that  "  Herr  and 
Frau  Friedmann's  marriage,  having  been  solemnised 
as  such,  was  nevertheless  in  the  circumstances  to  be 
regarded  as  not  having  taken  place,  so  no  divorce 
could  be  granted." 

225  q 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

We  were  quite  merry  over  it,  and  at  a  luncheon 
party  with  Lenbach  and  Hans  Makart  (of  whom  I 
shall  speak  by  and  by)  we  celebrated  our  bond  of 
freedom  that  was  transformed  into  a  hearty  friendship. 
This,  throughout  the  thirty-three  years  that  have 
since  elapsed,  has  remained  as  staunch  as  ever. 
Indeed,  this  now  comprises  the  friendship  of  our 
respective  husband  and  wife,  and  I  have  hardly  a 
friend  I  care  for  more  than  for  the  clever,  pleasant 
wife  of  Siegwart  Friedmann. 

How  true  a  friend  he  proved  to  my  husband  will 
be  shown  in  the  course  of  the  events  I  shall  relate. 


226 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

I  must  mention  the  fact  that  I  was  again  alone,  and, 
beyond  what  I  earned  at  the  theatre,  absolutely 
penniless. 

I  have  not  yet  mentioned  one  of  my  peculiarities, 
namely,  my  incapacity  for  seeking  money  or  material 
help  from  others.  To  illustrate  this  let  me  quote 
the  opinion  of  Siegmund  Schlesinger,  when  my  book, 
My  Relations  to  Ferdinand  Lassalle,  appeared. 

What  he  wrote  of  me  will  illustrate  this  better 
than  I  could  describe. 

He  entitled  his  article,  "  It  is  I,"  because  I  once 
wrote  this  dedication  under  a  photograph  I  gave 
him.     Schlesinger  wrote  of  this  picture : 

The  fairylike  gleam  of  the  golden  hair  is  wanting  in  the 
monotony  of  the  photographic  tones,  and  without  it  we  lose  the 
real  characteristic  of  this  fateful  beauty.  "  You  have  made 
enough  noise  in  the  world,1'  a  Berlin  friend  once  said  to  her ; 
"  but  you  might  have  made  three  times  as  much  and  not  been 
so  calumniated  if,  instead  of  this  provoking  colour,  you  had  had 
dark  hair." 

This  golden  gleam,  as  I  said,  does  not  show  in  the  picture, 
yet  the  photograph  reveals  the  unaltered  cast  of  its  impress. 
The  proud  forehead,  the  finely  cut,  delicate,  aquiline  nose,  the 
nervous,  clever  and  energetic  mouth,  which  is  a  shade  farther 
than  need  be  from  the  nose,  thus  enhancing  the  expression  of 
sharp  decision  that  bids  defiance  to  the  world,  whilst  the  eye 
combines  both  melancholy  and  tenderness. 

The  term  "  interesting,"  which  has  so  often  been  misapplied, 
should  have  been  invented — if  not  already  existing — to  describe 
this  charming  woman,  whose  stature  is  that  of  an  Amazon  of 
the  drawing-room  (may  this  daring  combination  of  words  pass 

227 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

the  censor  of  good  taste !).  She  is  the  embodiment  of  the 
device—"  It  is  I." 

The  pose  of  this  proud  figure  with  the  fearless  face  seems 
to  cry  out  to  the  world,  "  I  am  my  own  world,  and  I  make  my 
own  laws."  Thus  it  stands  in  the  picture,  with  the  arms  close 
to  the  sides  as  if  in  self-depreciation,  the  hands  crossed  and 
suggesting  modest,  almost  housewifely  simplicity.  Even  this 
too  is  characteristic,  for  the  most  bizarre  contrasts  are  here  in 
the  mingled  qualities  bestowed  by  good  and  bad  fairies ;  full 
of  the  most  enduring  will-power,  and  the  most  inconsistent 
weakness ;  revolting  iciness  of  heart,  and  childlike  softness — 
impulses  that  lead  to  the  inevitable  need  of  wealth,  combined 
with  luxurious  tastes;  and  withal  the  total  impossibility  of 
so-called  "  making  money  "  or  of  making  use  of  any  one.  I 
myself  know  of  a  long  conversation  she  once  had  with  a  well- 
known  millionaire,  who  was  always  ready  for  even  quite  platonic 
monetary  sacrifices  for  ladies  of  the  theatre,  and  easily  induced 
to  such.  She  had  entered  upon  conversation  with  very  keen 
prospects  of  help,  for  at  this  time  she  was  much  tormented  by 
creditors ;  but  the  interview  ended  without  result,  because  she 
had  no  talent  for  using  the  necessary  hints  as  regarded  money 
matters.  She  carried  inconsistency  to  a  systematic  perfection 
in  love,  yet  had  a  changeless  consistency  in  friendship,  a  freedom 
in  conversation,  easily  developing  to  cynicism — knowing  no 
bounds,  hesitating  before  no  subject  of  discussion ;  yet 
supremely  sensitive,  and  full  of  womanly  tact  and  dignity. 
In  men's  society  she  could  be  carried  away  to  the  extent  of 
telling  stories  at  which  the  most  masculine  natures  would  be 
horrified.  But  she  told  them  all  with  a  sort  of  Boccaccio-like 
naivete,  not  understanding  that  certain  things  could  not  be 
discussed ;  nor  could  she  imagine  that  conversation  should 
hang  fire  from  any  prudish  considerations.  But  if  she  saw  that 
some  one,  for  the  sake  of  piquancy  or  frivolity,  purposely 
directed  the  talk  towards  doubtful  or  lascivious  subjects,  the 
opposition  of  femininity  was  raised  within  her,  and  she  was 
capable  of  breaking  off  the  conversation  shortly  and  sharply, 
and  of  giving  the  badly  "  inspired  7  man  to  understand  that 
she  wished  to  be  free  from  his  society. 

Toward  her  own  sex,  she  upheld  womanly  dignity  in  a 
masterly  way.  With  women  she  had  the  quiet  firmness,  the 
noble  absence  of  self,  that  characterises  the  sensible  housewife 
and  the  grande  dame. 

This  was  proved  in  my  own  house.  I  came  home  one  day,  and 
my  wife  said  to  me,  "  Helene  Friedmann  has  been  here.  She 
tried  to  find  you  at  the  Editor's  office,  and  as  you  had  already 

228 


"IT  IS  I" 

left,  she  came  here  and  asked  if  she  might  speak  to  me.  I 
was  almost  afraid  of  this  visit,  for,  after  all,  I  had  heard  a  great 
deal  about  her,  and  imagined  her  to  be  eccentric  and  odd ; 
but  in  my  heart  I  have  begged  her  pardon.  I  found  her  most 
pleasant  and  natural,  with  charming  manners,  and  quiet,  practical 
points  of  view.  I  chatted  long  and  pleasantly  with  her  on 
housewifely  topics."" 

This  same  woman  told  me,  a  few  days  later,  that  Makart  had 
begged  her  to  sit  to  him  as  a  bacchante ;  that  she  really  was 
doing  it,  that  the  day  before,  in  the  midst  of  painting  her,  he 
stopped  short  and  turning  to  her,  suddenly  hurled  this  remark 
at  her,  "But  just  tell  me  something  of  the  real  bacchantes  in 
ancient  Greece,  for  you  have  sprung  from  there  into  our  own 

time." 

The  memory  of  Lassalle  has  remained  the  only  real  great 
one,  and  at  the  same  time  (herein  lies  the  tragic  peculiarity  of 
her  destiny)  the  saddest  moment  of  her  life.  Apparently  she 
has  long  since  got  over  it.  She  speaks  with  seemingly  objective 
quietness  about  it,  but  a  sympathetic  eye  cannot  be  mistaken 
in  seeing  that  she  revels  in  a  sort  of  voluptuousness  of  suffering, 
when  she  speaks  of  the  evanescent  delights  of  the  Lassalle  days. 
They  were  two  of  the  most  wonderful  hours  of  my  life  when  she 
first  told  me  of  this  affair,  in  her  little  room  on  the  third  story 
of  the  house  in  the  Victoria  Gasse,  which  was  charmingly 
arranged  with  a  certain  amount  of  imagination,  yet  without 
eccentricity,  and  where  for  the  time  being  she  had  pitched  her 
tent. 

More  than  once,  when  thinking  of  these  hours  and  of  her 
story,  my  hand  has  itched  to  grasp  the  pen  and  transcribe  all 
I  had  heard  ;  but  I  had  no  right  to  do  this,  nor  to  give  lightly 
to  the  world  her  most  secret  thoughts  and  feelings.  Now  she 
has  done  it  herself,  and  whoever  delights  in  reading  descriptions 
of  the  perplexities,  the  curious  inconsistencies  and  impulses  of 
the  human  soul,  let  him  turn  with  interest  and  expectancy  to 
this  tragedy  of  two  singular  beings,  who  were  destroyed  by  the 
attraction  that  drew  one  to  the  other. 

The  picture  here  is  no  ordinary  portrait,  and  it  cannot  leave 
one  indifferent.  The  woman  has  written  beneath  it  her  own 
designation  of  herself  in  the  defiant  yet  inexpressibly  melancholy 
device  :  It  is  I.  Siegmund  Schlesinger. 

In  connection  with  these  extracts,  I  should  like 
to  make  two  remarks.  Firstly,  that  I  smile  at  the 
mention  of  my  iciness  of  JiearL  This  has  assuredly 
never  been  remarked  by  any  one  who  lived  in  my 

229 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

proximity,  but  rather  the  contrary — an  extreme 
tenderness  of  disposition.  Men  certainly  have  re- 
proached me  with  it,  when  rinding  no  response  to 
their  so-called  "love,"  even  after  years  of  wooing. 
When  I  laughingly  said,  "  I  cannot  love  everybody," 
I  generally  received  the  reply,  "But  you  ought  to 
love  me,  as  I  have  loved  you  for  so  long,  and  have 
proved  my  fidelity." 

I  must  mention  now  a  peculiarity  of  my  nature 
which  is  perhaps  a  little  unfeminine.  I  was  never 
won,  or  moved  in  the  least,  by  perseverance  or  per- 
sistent proofs  of  love  in  another — hence  perhaps  the 
"  iciness  of  heart." 

One  of  the  "  persevering  ones  "  once  took  it  into 
his  head  to  follow  me  wherever  my  numerous 
theatrical  tours  called  me.  He  crowned  his  follies 
by  flying  one  night  into  the  express  train  between 
Konigsberg  and  Posen,  and  appearing  at  the  door  of 
my  compartment.  I  was  certainly  astonished,  but 
he  had  to  retire  with  a  long  face.  In  the  morning 
I  gave  him  to  understand  seriously  that  these  follies 
must  end.  They  would  lead  to  nothing,  and  even  if 
he  continued  them  for  years,  he  could  only  provoke 
annoyance  in  me,  but  never  love.  "  Whom  I  love," 
I  said  finally,  "  has  no  need  to  behave  so  desperately. 
He  soon  knows  it,  for  I  myself  choose,  and  let 
myself  neither  be  chosen  nor  conquered." 

He  went  away  and  talked  of  my  iciness  of  heart ! 

In  the  second  place  I  will  touch  upon  Siegmund 
Schlesinger's  allusion  to  my  chronic  inability  to  keep 
myself  free  from  money  troubles. 

This  peculiarity  of  mine  caused  me  then,  and 
in  later  years,  many  difficult  moments.  Whoever 
knows  Vienna,  or  any  other  great  city,  and  the  need 
of  luxury,  and  the  demands  placed  on  the  ladies  of 
the  theatre,  can  well  imagine  that  a  young  woman 
admired  as  I  was,  and  with  a  salary  and  royalty  that 
amounted  at  most  to  12,000  gulden  (about  £1200)  a 
year,  could  not  possibly  manage  to  live  on  it. 

230 


"BEARING  OF  CONSEQUENCES" 

Often  when  I  was  in  pressing  debt  I  was  re- 
proached for  not  having  secured  a  certain  income  on 
separating  with  Friedmann,  especially  as  we  parted 
on  friendly  terms,  and  for  no  especial  reason.  But 
I  could  not  do  this  ;  he  did  not  offer  it  to  me,  so  I 
did  not  suggest  it,  and  remained  merely  with  my  pay 
and  the  little  income  allowed  me  by  my  uncle,  my 
tours  being  remunerated  sometimes  more  and  some- 
times less. 

I  mention  all  this  in  detail,  that  my  position  at 
the  time  may  be  understood,  and  I  had  many 
desperate  difficulties.  I  had  friends  enough,  and 
even  more  admirers,  but  helpers — not  a  single  one. 

As  excuse  for  those  not  ready  to  help,  be  it  said 
that  perhaps  they  did  not  know  my  real  position. 
I  was  too  proud  to  speak,  and  they  no  doubt  were 
too  indifferent  to  ask,  in  spite  of  all  protestations  to 
the  contrary.  But  my  chief  reason  for  dwelling 
upon  it  is  this :  my  enemies  have  said  of  me  that 
I  was  influenced  by  material  advantages,  and  gave 
my  favours  for  value  received. 

The  above  is  my  answer. 

I  have  often,  and  with  full  consciousness,  acted  in 
defiance  of  the  moral  laws  of  the  world ;  but  I  have 
always  taken  the  consequences  upon  myself  without 
hesitation.  It  was  a  favourite  device  of  my  life : 
"  II  faut  avoir  le  courage  de  son  opinion  !  " — not  only 
indeed  to  have  the  courage  of  one's  conviction,  but 
the  courage  to  bear  the  consequences  of  one's 
actions. 

My  conviction  was,  as  I  have  often  emphasised  in 
these  memoirs — the  equal  rights  in  love  of  the  free 
woman  with  those  of  the  man,  provided  no  regard 
need  be  taken  for  wife  or  child.  This  changes  every- 
thing in  my  eyes,  as  then  there  is  a  holier,  higher 
duty  than  the  one  towards  one's  self. 

The  "bearing  of  consequences"  I  carried  so  far, 
that  when  by  going  on  the  stage  I  stepped  out  of 
the  society  in  which  my  birth  and  my  first  marriage 

231 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

had  placed  me,  I  broke  off  all  connections  that  bound 
me  to  it. 

I  visited  none  of  my  former  women  friends  of  the 
social  world  except  those  who  proved  to  me  that 
they  wished  to  continue  to  associate  with  me.  Then 
I  welcomed  them  with  all  my  heart. 

Later  in  life,  when  my  life  again  took  a  regular 
course,  many  of  these  returned  to  me  ;  and  they 
prove  their  faithful  friendship  and  liking  to  this  day. 

At  that  time  I  stood  alone  in  the  world,  deserted 
by  all  (the  aunt  I  mentioned  before,  and  of  whom  I 
was  so  fond,  died  young — in  1870).  No  doubt  none 
of  those  who  lived  so  happily  and  without  care 
realised  what  a  helping  hand  would  have  meant  to 
me  then.  Fate  had  never  cast  them  out  of  their 
natural  surroundings,  and  they  could  never  under- 
stand it 

A  word,  a  warm  hand-pressure  at  the  right 
moment,  may  alter  —  nay,  perhaps  even  save  —  a 
human  soul  I 

But  the  hand  was  not  proffered,  and  the  word 
remained  unspoken  I 

Thus  it  seems  to  me  comprehensible  —  now 
when  I  stand  high  and  free  above  all  my  doings  of 
those  days — that  a  being  with  such  a  necessity  for 
love  and  tenderness,  with  such  hunger  for  happiness, 
with  such  a  sunny,  light  heart,  should  become  "  that 
heart-seeker"  I  was  so  often  termed  by  my  more 
intimate  friends.  When  they  inquired  about  a  cast- 
off  lover  they  asked,  "Is  he  too  not  the  right  one  ? 
Are  you  still  seeking  ?     Herzenssucherin  I " 

Yes,  I  was  looking  for  love,  or,  better  still,  for 
that  being  to  whom  once  and  for  all  I  could  entirely 
devote  my  love,  and  whom  I  could  fully  understand, 
as  he  me  ;  but  this  I  did  not  find.  That  blessed  time 
was  still  far  away  ;  here  the  storm  still  raged,  tossing 
me  from  one  hope  to  another ;  always  seeking,  yet 
aufond  miserable,  because  unsatisfied. 

I  drove  on  through  the  world,  where  others  of 

232 


LOVE  OF  TRUTH 

tamer  temperament  and  more  easily  satisfied  would 
have  withdrawn  to  their  corner  in  silent  resignation. 
But  it  was  -not  my  lot  to  enjoy  secluded  happiness ; 
rather  to  fight  with  the  elements,  weather  the  storm, 
but  at  last  to  reach  the  warmth,  the  light,  the  sun  ! 
At  present  I  stood  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  in  the  fury 
of  the  hurricane. 

But  to  go  back,  as  these  memoirs  demand — 
courageously  back  to  that  wild  time  when  certainly 
the  old  Viking  blood  in  me  gained  the  upper  hand. 

Thus  I  must  relate  how  I  now  exercised  my  love 
of  truth  with  a  certain  brutality.  I  told  every  man 
who  sought  to  find  favour  with  me  that  probably 
my  love  would  not  be  of  long  duration,  because 
faithfulness  did  not  lie  in  my  nature,  and  he  would 
hardly  prove  to  be  the  long-sought  one,  capable  of 
awakening  this  virtue  within  me  T  I  must,  however, 
add  that  I  never  met  a  man,  young  or  old,  foreigner 
or  German,  who  abandoned  his  suit  on  account  of 
this  warning.  I  may  go  even  farther  and  declare 
that  no  man  ever  became  my  enemy  in  consequence 
of  this  confession,  so  that  I  really  believed  that  it 
had  been  my  privilege  to  know  only  great  souls,  who 
knew  how  to  love,  because  they  understood  and 
respected  the  truth. 

A  reason  for  this  may  have  been,  that  one  gener- 
ally finds  in  people  that  which  one  presupposes  in 
them.  A  man  may  show  to  various  friends  very 
different  sides  of  his  character  ;  with  the  absolutely 
sincere,  he  will  be  the  same,  because,  it  may  be 
unconsciously,  he  is  ashamed  to  exhibit  the  want  of 
truth  that  predominates  in  him  at  other  times. 
Another  man  may  show  himself  at  times  a  sensualist, 
yet  where  he  knows  that  this  will  be  regarded  as 
repulsive,  he  will,  without  hypocrisy,  betray  his 
better  self. 

I  think  I  drew  out  the  best  side  of  my  friends' 
characters  by  looking  upon  them  as  chosen  beings  ; 
they  hardly  dared  to  disturb  the  illusion  which  was 

233 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

so  flattering  to  themselves.  Thus  they  all  remained 
my  friends  in  spite  of,  or  maybe  because  of,  my  love 
of  truth,  which  I  therefore  have  every  reason  to 
bless. 

A  friend  once  testified  to  it  in  this  way :  "  Vous 
etes  le  gentilhomme  le  plus  loyal  que  jai  rencontre 
de  ma  vie."  (You  are  the  most  perfect  gentleman  I 
have  met  in  all  my  life.) 

After  all  this  explanation,  which  arose  from  a 
certain  necessity  of  the  soul,  let  me  return  to  my 
days  in  Vienna,  and  to  my  many  interesting  experi- 
ences there. 

As  already  stated,  Franz  von  Lenbach  was  there, 
and  was  painting  the  Emperor  and  many  notabilities 
in  society  when  I  renewed  the  friendship  with  him 
which  had  begun  in  Munich. 

One  day  he  said  to  me,  "  Makart  wants  to  know 
you,  but  the  shy  creature  never  pays  a  visit." 

"Well,  then,  bring  him  one  evening  with  you  to 
the  Cafe  Walch,  where  we  all  meet  so  often  after  the 
theatre." 

"  Very  well,  to-morrow." 

We  "all"  consisted  of  a  most  interesting  group 
of  artists,  musicians,  and  poets,  among  whom  were 
Adolf  Sonnenthal,  Hartmann,  and  my  best  friend 
and  former  husband,  Siegwart  Friedmann.  Among 
the  ladies  were  Auguste  Baudius,  Toni  Hiller  (the 
clever  daughter  of  the  musical  composer  Ferdinand 
Hiller),  Charlotte  Wolter  and  I.  When  our  work 
at  the  various  theatres  was  over,  we  generally  met 
for  supper  in  one  of  the  hotels  near  by,  and  had  tea 
or  coffee  afterwards  in  the  Cafd  Walch.  Our  little 
circle  was  most  animated  ;  the  latest  poems  were 
discussed  from  the  dramatic  as  well  as  the  lyrical 
side ;  various  interpretations  of  roles  were  talked 
over,  the  newest  pictures  criticised — in  short,  all  sorts 
of  people  and  things  were  discussed,  and  everybody 
was  interested  in  everything.  On  this  particular 
evening  Lenbach  came,  accompanied  by  the  famous 

234 


HANS  MAKART 

Hans  Makart,  a  little  man  in  a  black  velvet  coat, 
knickerbockers,  high  boots,  and  with  a  tremendous 
mane  of  hair.  He  led  him  straight  up  to  me,  and 
after  a  few  gracious  words  on  my  part,  which  Makart 
with  his  well-known  taciturnity  scarcely  answered, 
he  asked  me  with  his  soft  sympathetic  voice,  "  Will 
you  sacrifice  yourself,  and  let  me  paint  you  once  ?" 

"Of  course,  I  shall  be  delighted,"  I  replied. 
"  Any  one  would  like  to  be  painted  by  Hans 
Makart." 

u  You  didn't  always  say  that,"  he  said  reproach- 
fully. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Have  you  ever  asked  me 
before?" 

"  Certainly,  in  the  winter  of  1864-65,  in  Munich, 
at  night." 

Suddenly  a  memory  flashed  through  my  brain, 
and  I  exclaimed  in  astonishment,  "  Was  it  you — 
that  absolutely  mad  creature  in  the  night  ?  " 

■  Yes,  I  was  the  madman  !  At  that  time  I  was 
an  unknown  young  fellow  with  no  name ;  but  I  felt 
— '  if  you  could  paint  that  head,  you  would  become 
famous  at  one  stroke.'  I  knew  I  should  be  able  to  ! 
Yes,  it  is  just  eight  years  ago." 

"  No  !  How  extraordinary — that  was  you  ?  "  I 
repeated,  and  the  picture  of  that  night  rose  before 
me  :  the  Court  Theatre  in  Munich  where  I  sat  in  the 
dress  circle  with  my  brother-in-law  and  Countess  K. 
Opposite  us,  down  below,  stood  a  dark  young  man, 
whose  gleaming  eyes  were  fixed  persistently  on  me. 
I  took  notice  of  it.  We  then  went  to  a  restaurant  to 
sup ;  the  young  man  went  too.  He  sat  at  a  table 
near  us,  and  continued  staring  at  me.  At  last  this 
began  to  annoy  me  ;  my  brother-in-law  noticed  it 
also,  and  said,  "  I  shall  have  to  give  this  young 
savage  a  lesson !  "  But  we  only  laughed  and  tried 
to  calm  him.     Soon  after  that  we  left. 

At  that  time  the  streets  of  Munich  were  very 
badly  lighted,  and  I  was  walking  home  a  little  in 

235 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  JtACOWITZA 

advance  of  the  others,  when  suddenly  the  wild- 
looking  young  man  rushed  towards  me,  exclaiming, 
"  Oh,  Fraulein,  I  would  like  to  paint  you ! "  I 
screamed  with  fright.  My  brother-in-law  rushed 
forward,  my  sister-in-law  and  I  went  on  quickly, 
whilst  the  men  remained  behind  in  discussion.  Then 
Count  K.  came  towards  us  laughing  and  said,  "  Oh, 
it's  nothing,  only  a  mad  painter.     I've  settled  him." 

This  "  mad,  settled  "  painter  was  Hans  Makart. 

He  was  sitting  next  me  now,  and  was  anything 
but  "settled."  We  both  of  us  laughed  over  the 
reminiscence,  and  Makart  continued :  "  Yes,  I  would 
have  given  a  great  deal  at  that  time  to  paint  you, 
but  your  brother-in-law  immediately  challenged  me 
to  a  duel.  I  ask  you,  do  I  look  like  a  duellist? 
I  went  away  then  with  a  very  heavy  heart,  but  never 
mind,  we  will  paint  now  instead." 

We  forthwith  arranged  a  day  when  I  could  go  to 
his  delightful  atelier.  I  only  made  one  condition, 
which  was,  that  nobody  should  know  anything  about 
it  until  the  picture  was  finished,  because  I  was  so 
pestered  by  the  Vienna  artists  for  sittings.  I  often 
told  them  jokingly,  when  I  refused  them,  that  if  I 
gave  way  to  their  requests,  I  should  be  wandering 
from  morning  till  night  from  studio  to  studio,  with  a 
basket  of  provisions  on  my  arm.  But  it  was  a 
different  thing  with  Makart. 

A  most  interesting  time  now  began  for  me,  for 
the  silent  Makart  was  not  at  all  so  silent  when  one 
got  him  alone  and  on  his  favourite  themes,  paintings 
and  art.  His  instinct  for  colour  was  most  remarkable. 
I  remember  a  discussion  between  him  and  several 
other  painters  about  the  exact  shade  of  colour  in  the 
draperies  of  the  Belle  di  Tiziano.  They  made  several 
sketches,  and  Makart  said  quietly,  "No,  it  is  not 
exactly  that — here  are  the  right  colours  ! "  and  taking 
a  bit  of  canvas,  he  painted  the  precise  shades  in  thick 
strokes.  They  then  went  in  a  body  and  stood  before 
the  beautiful  copy  of  the  Florentine  original,  and  the 

236 


HANS  MAKART 

colours  dashed  in  by  Makart  were  so  exact  that 
they  could  have  been  mistaken  for  the  original  ones. 

He  explained  to  me  later,  when  we  were  alone, 
"It  is  because  I  see  colours  with  my  soul." 

At  that  time  I  sat  to  him  for  all  sorts  of 
subjects,  whatever  he  fancied — sometimes  as  a  Greek 
bacchante,  sometimes  as  a  figure  in  one  of  his  big 
pictures,  sometimes  as  a  Venetian  Dogaressa ;  in  fact, 
something  new  continually  grew  under  his  brush. 
None  of  the  pictures  were  really  portraits  of  me,  least 
of  all  the  one  he  intended  as  such.  It  became  a  sort 
of  rage  with  him  to  paint  me.  He  designed  the  most 
exquisite  patterns  for  materials  which  he  had  caused 
to  be  woven  in  Lyons,  and  the  garments  made  out 
of  these  formed  the  pretext  for  a  new  sitting. 

One  thing  frequently  happened  in  this  little 
intimate  circle  of  ours — we  were  all  very  often  short 
of  money,  especially  as  we  were  all  people  with  rather 
luxurious  tastes.  Hans  Makart,  with  his  large, 
warm  heart,  possessed  in  his  famous  atelier  a  small, 
beautifully  carved,  old  Italian  cabinet.  In  this  there 
always  lay  some  loose  money  —  sometimes  more, 
sometimes  less.  It  was  the  "  comrades'  money,"  as 
Hans  called  it,  and  was  common  property.  Who- 
ever needed  money  went  to  this  little  cabinet, 
peeped  in,  and  if  it  were  "  high  tide  "  he  took  what 
he  wanted.  If,  however,  it  were  "low  tide"  he 
turned  with  a  long  face  towards  the  master,  saying, 
"  Oh,  dear  me !  Nothing,  or  hardly  anything  ! " 
Then  Hans  called  out  gaily :  "  Never  mind,  Helene 
must  be  painted  again ;  the  art  dealers  buy  all  my 
Venetian  ladies,  and  studies  of  heads,  wet  from  the 
easel ;  so  I'll  paint  to-morrow,  and  the  day  after  we 
will  all  float  again." 

Then  every  one  laughed,  the  costume  was  talked 
over,  and  I  sat  again  for  every  one's  benefit ! 

During  one  of  the  discussions  on  costumes,  a 
most  comical  thing  occurred. 

I  must  mention  that  Makart,  when  he  arranged 

237 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

his  famous  atelier  with  palms,  and  a  hidden  boudoir 
surrounded  with  mirrors,  made  a  second  atelier  next 
his  own  for  his  closest  friend,  Franz  Lenbach.  Len- 
bach  was  only  separated  from  him,  and  in  this  case 
from  us  too,  by  a  partition.  I  was  sitting  for  a 
Venetian  Dogaressa  in  a  gorgeous  costume.  The 
gown,  which  was  in  accordance  with  the  style  of  the 
period,  was  made  of  gold  brocade  with  scarlet  and 
sea-green  velvet.  Above  my  long  flowing  hair,  I 
wore  the  little  Dogaressa's  cap  and  crown.  Makart 
was  in  ecstasy  over  his  sketch,  and  painted  silently 
and  industriously.  Suddenly  Lenbach  threw  the 
door  open  and  called  out,  "  Hans,  leave  off !  Liszt, 
the  Countess  Donhoff,  and  a  number  of  others  are  in 
here  with  me,  and  are  coming  on  to  you." 

"No,  I  won't  I  I  have  no  time  I  I  want  to 
work  !."  called  out  Makart  exasperatedly. 

"  You  cant  help  it ;  they  are  coming  ! "  and  the 
vivacious  Lenbach  rushed  off.  Master  Hans  stood 
there  like  a  real  "Hans"  (bumpkin),  quite  taken 
aback,  and  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  me.  It 
would  never  do  for  me  to  run  upstairs,  because,  as  he 
said  angrily,  they  would  be  sure  to  go  up  there  too, 
and  "  sniff"  at  everything  I  I  found  a  way  out  of  it. 
The  big  atelier  window  came  down  to  within  two 
yards  of  the  floor  ;  beneath  it  there  was  a  pitch-dark 
niche,  beautifully  and  luxuriously  arranged,  but  so 
hidden  with  palms  and  "  Makart  arrangements  "  that 
no  one  suspected  its  existence,  unless  the  pretty 
Arabian  lamp — which  was  now  extinguished — was 
burning.  I  made  this  place  my  refuge,  as  I  should 
have  very  much  disliked  to  appear  before  these  un- 
known, yet  well-known,  people  in  this  masquerade. 

I  was  hardly  in  my  hiding-place  when  the  whole 
party  streamed  into  the  atelier. 

I  was  delighted  to  watch,  unseen,  the  Abbe' 
Liszt ;  he  did  not  appear  to  be  in  a  particularly  good 
temper.  His  faithful  Countess  Donhoff  was  very 
lively,   and    as  well    as  the   other   Hungarian   and 

238 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Austrian  beau-monde,  peeped  into  every  corner,  and 
at  every  canvas.  Exclamations  of  admiration  in 
German,  French,  and  Hungarian  sounded  extremely 
near  my  niche,  and  I  trembled  lest  I  should  be 
discovered,  yet  Makart  managed  every  time  to 
draw  their  attention  to  something  else.  At  last, 
marshalled  by  Lenbach,  they  disappeared,  and  I, 
who  had  become  terribly  hot  in  my  heavy  garments 
in  that  warm  corner,  stepped  out  into  the  full  light 
of  the  winter  sun,  which  was  streaming  through  the 
high  window. 

At  that  moment  Franz  Liszt,  who  wished  to  say 
something  to  Makart,  turned  round,  and  a  cry  of 
admiration  escaped  his  lips.  Hans  made  the  most 
desperate  efforts  to  hide  me  from  Liszt  by  standing 
between  us,  but  the  taller  celebrity  pushed  the 
shorter  celebrity  aside  with  a  wave  of  the  hand, 
and  approaching  me  with  outstretched  finger  asked, 
"Who  is  that?     Who?" 

I  had  to  laugh  ;  and  Hans  and  Lenbach,  who  was 
standing  in  the  doorway,  called  out,  the  former  in  a 
rage  and  the  latter  in  amusement,  "Liszt,  go! — Come! 
— the  Countess  is  waiting  !  " 

"  Let  her  wait,"  he  answered.  "  Who  are  you, 
and  why  don't  we  know  each  other  ? " 

I  now  laughed  heartily,  and  told  him  who  I  was. 
"Ach  so!"  he  said  joyfully,  "now  I  understand! 
But  why  have  we  never  met  ?  Two  people  such  as 
we  are  ought  to  know  each  other  !  Lenbach,  you 
keep  the  Donhoff  and  the  others  with  you — I  will 
follow  later  !  Makart,  you  want  to  paint  this  picture 
here  ?  I  can  tell  you  beforehand  it  is  impossible. 
You  will  never  be  able  to  do  it !  Show  me  what  you 
have  painted." 

Makart  did  not  want  to  do  this,  as  he  had  hardly 
begun  it,  but  the  Abb£  hunted  out  the  canvas,  looked 
at  the  picture  a  long  time,  shook  his  head,  then  laid 
it  down  and  said  to  me,  "  No,  that  won't  do.  But — 
have  you  ever  heard  me  play  ? " 

239 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

"  Yes  !  Once  at  my  parents'  house,  and  yesterday 
at  the  concert." 

M  Not  at  all,  then  ;  for  at  that  time  you  were  too 
young,  and  in  the  concerts  I  am  merely  a  great 
virtuoso,  but  not  really  myself!  Well,  Makart,  to- 
morrow evening  I  am  coming  here  to  you,  and  then 
I  will  play — there  on  that  piano,  for  this  woman." 

I  was  delighted,  enchanted,  although  Master  Hans 
looked  vexed.  Lenbach  was  calling  out  in  the  door- 
way, "  Come,  Liszt  1  the  Countess  is  impatient  I " 

"  I'm  coming  !  Good-bye — till  to-morrow  ! " — and 
he  went. 

Mere  words  could  never  describe  the  magical 
charm  of  that  next  evening.  Charlotte  Wolter, 
Makart,  Lenbach,  Liszt,  and  I — no  one  else. 

Hans  Makart  understood  how  to  transform  his 
atelier  into  a  veritable  temple  of  colour,  and  very  few 
mortals  have  had  the  privilege  of  hearing  Liszt  play 
in  such  an  entourage. 

We  wept  and  laughed,  rejoiced  and  sobbed,  just 
as  the  great  master  of  music  wished,  and  I,  who  sat 
next  to  him,  and  was  all  enthusiasm,  have  never 
passed  an  hour  that  thrilled  my  soul  so  powerfully, 
and  I  shall  never  forget  it!  It  was  an  intoxicating 
evening  1 

The  great  artist  invited  me,  towards  the  end  of 
it,  to  visit  him  in  Budapest  I  did  not  do  it  I  did 
not  want  the  picture  of  that  magical  evening  to  be 
effaced  from  my  memory,  as  his  home  and  life  in 
Hungary  would  certainly  have  effaced  it  I  never 
saw  him  again. 


240 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

The  most  interesting  house  in  Vienna  at  that  time 
was  the  Laubes'.  Their  famous  coffee-parties,  which 
took  place  every  day  from  five  to  seven,  brought 
together  all  the  celebrities,  intellectual  and  artistic, 
who  were  then  in  the  city  on  the  shores  of  the 
Danube. 

Heinrich  Laube  and  his  clever,  though  unpre- 
possessing, wife  were,  during  these  hours,  the  most 
amiable  of  hosts.  At  other  times  they  preferred 
being  alone.  Between  the  hours  just  mentioned,  one 
could  meet  in  their  drawing-room  every  one  who  was 
well  known  in  art,  literature,  and  science.  There 
was  an  absolute  sans  gene.  After  shaking  hands 
with  the  hosts,  and  receiving  a  cup  of  coffee,  one 
could  enter  into  a  discussion  about  theatres  and 
acting  with  the  "  doctor,"  as  Heinrich  Laube  was 
called  generally,  or  one  listened  to  the  remarks  of 
Frau  Iduna,  or  one  amused  oneself  according  to 
one's  fancy. 

I  always  remained  near  the  doctor,  for  the  most 
interesting  people  collected  round  him  ;  and  when  he 
expressed  his  views  in  his  own  witty  and  original 
way,  one  could  always  learn  something  from  him, 
and  find  food  for  reflection. 

Once,  when  I  was  slowly  toiling  up  the  six  flights 
of  stairs  that  led  to  the  Laubes'  dwelling,  a  tall  and 
dainty  figure  in  a  most  charming  white  summer 
toilette  hurried  past  me,  and  ran  upstairs  quickly,  as 
if  with  winged  feet. 

241  r 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

I,  who  was  then  a  little  over  twenty,  sighed,  and 
thought,  "  Oh,  youth,  youth !  I  am  sure  that  is  a 
young  girl — perhaps  a  debutante  on  the  Vienna  stage, 
who  has  come  to  ask  the  doctor  for  advice  and 
help!" 

When  I  reached  the  drawing-room,  Frau  Iduna 
said  to  me,  "  Ah,  that's  right,  let  me  introduce  you 
at  once  to  a  most  interesting  woman — Fanny  Elsler." 

"Is  she  alive?      Why,  at  the  beginning  of  the 

century !  "     She  led  me  up  to  my  young  girl  of 

the  staircase,  who,  in  her  white  dress  and  hat, 
dark  curls  and  sylphlike  figure,  greeted  me  most 
charmingly. 

This !  Fanny  Elsler !  The  once  famous  dancer, 
who  is  said  to  have  been  the  only  love  of  the  poor 
and  short-lived  king  of  Rome — the  unfortunate  son 
of  Napoleon  I. !  It  is  said  they  initiated  each  other 
in  love's  mysteries.  She  must  be  over  seventy  now, 
and  could  it  be  possible  that  this  dainty  woman 
sitting  before  me,  the  very  incarnation  of  youth, 
was  she  ? 

She  nodded  graciously,  and  we  were  soon  con- 
versing in  the  most  effusive  way,  for  she  had  many 
stories  to  tell  about  the  time  when  she  had  danced 
before  various  crowned  heads  and  delighted  them  all. 
She  told  me  it  was  she  and  her  sister  (later  on  the 
wife  of  a  Prussian  prince)  who  first  conceived  the 
idea  of  transforming  the  hitherto  senseless  ballet 
dancing  into  a  kind  of  dramatic  art  with  mimic 
gesture.  Her  conversation  was  as  charming  as  her 
looks.  A  few  evenings  later  I  saw  her  at  a  premiere 
in  the  Laube  Theatre,  in  full  dress,  and  covered  with 
the  jewels  she  had  received  from  royal  and  imperial 
hands.  Her  still  beautiful  arms  and  shoulders  were 
bare,  and  I  understood  the  love  and  admiration  of 
the  king  of  Rome  and  so  many  others  for  her. 

Heinrich  Laube  himself  was  most  remarkable 
when  he  appeared  at  our  rehearsals  in  the  capacity 
of  rfgisseur.     His  hideous  exterior,  gnome-like  form, 

242 


HEINRICH  LAUBE 

and  bulldog  face,  were  made  still  more  hideous  by  his 
wonderful  garments,  which  were  cut  according  to  his 
own  ideas,  so  that  our  men  often  asked  wonderingly, 
"  Where  on  earth  can  the  tailor  live  who  makes  such 
things  as  that  ? " 

In  winter  he  wore  an  enormous  felt  hat,  and 
wound  a  thick  plaid  shawl  like  a  petticoat  round 
his  stomach.  However,  in  this  costume  he  worked 
wonders !  In  this  very  dress  he  showed  our  leading- 
lady  how  to  play  Gretchen,  and  did  it  so  magnificently 
that  we  were  all  moved.  He  showed  the  hero  how 
to  play  Romeo,  and  although  in  everyday  life  his 
voice  was  harsh  and  unpleasant,  he  did  it  in  the  most 
melting  tones  and  enticing  manner.  He  even  showed 
me  (the  leading  society  lady)  how  to  play  some 
distinguished  salon  role,  and  did  it  so  well  that  I 
often  thought,  "  What  a  regal  manner !  What 
fineness  of  perception  !  If  you  could  only  act  like 
that  I "  On  those  occasions  he  rose  above  himself, 
and  no  doubt  revelled  in  the  idea  of  being  a  great 
actor,  and  of  realising  all  the  ideal  personalities  of 
the  poet 

I  best  remember  Laube  as  rdgisseur  when  we 
were  studying  Lindau's  new  drama  Maria  and 
Magdalena.  I  have  already  spoken  of  my  friend- 
ship with  Paul  Lindau.  He  took  the  greatest 
interest  in  my  "stage  career,"  and  watched  over  my 
first  theatrical  efforts  with  loving  care. 

At  that  time  he  was  a  favourite  dramatist,  and 
a  new  play  by  him  was  looked  forward  to  with 
impatient  interest.  It  was  a  very  good  thing  for  me 
that  he  had  written  the  drama  Maria  and  Magdalena 
especially  for  me,  and  my  d^but  in  Vienna.  He  sent 
it  to  me  act  by  act  as  he  wrote  it,  introduced  many 
episodes  out  of  my  life  into  it,  and  made  many 
allusions  to  my  personality. 

A  few  weeks  before  the  performance  which,  as  I 
have  already  stated,  was  my  ddbut  at  the  Laube 
Theatre,  Paul  Lindau  arrived  in  Vienna ;  and  at  its 

243 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

first  reading  at  rehearsal,  the  piece  was  received  with 
great  applause.  Laube  once  more  proved  himself  a 
helpful  regisseur.  At  the  end  of  the  first  act  Lindau 
had  inserted  one  of  EichendorfFs  poems  as  a  declama- 
tion for  Maria.  Laube  protested  against  this,  and 
suggested  instead  one  of  Goethe's  poems,  "  Gedicht 
an  den  Mond  "  (Verses  to  the  Moon). 

Lindau  agreed  to  this,  and  I,  as  Maria,  much 
preferred  the  change.  Both  of  us,  poet  and  actress, 
are  indebted  to  practical  old  Laube  for  this.  Things 
did  not  always  work  so  smoothly  when  discussions 
arose  between  author  and  regisseur  regarding  the 
staging.  Laube  disapproved  of  all  modern  decorative 
art,  and  would  really  have  preferred  bare  boards  as 
in  Shakespeare's  time,  with  inscriptions  dotted  about 
such  as,  "This  is  a  park,"  "This  is  a  castle,"  and 
so  forth ! 

Lindau  insisted  on  proper  drawing-room  decora- 
tions for  his  play,  which  was  supposed  to  take  place 
at  a  Prince's  Court.  Laube  was  indignant  at  his 
considering  a  carpet  an  absolute  necessity.  The  old 
man  would  have  none  of  it,  and  the  battle  lasted 
several  days.  At  last  I  declared  that  I  would  not 
expose  my  costly  dresses  to  the  dirt  and  dust  of  the 
bare  boards.  He  grumbled  terribly,  and  declared 
that  the  modern  creatures  wished  to  "gild  refined 
gold  "  ;  nevertheless  the  carpet  appeared. 

As  regards  all  the  details  and  finer  characteristics 
of  every  individual  role,  Laube  was  as  particular  as 
his  well-known  colleague  Alexander  Strakosch,  so 
the  performance  was  an  immense  success,  and  all 
connected  with  it  regarded  it  as  one  of  the  most 
triumphant  evenings  of  the  Laube  Theatre. 

What  enthusiasm  and  striving  for  highest  ideals ! 
What  hope  and  joyful  unity  of  purpose  reigned 
among  us  then  !     I  still  love  to  think  of  it. 

It  was  during  this  stay  in  Vienna  that  I  first 
learnt  to  know  and  appreciate  the  genius  of  Richard 
Wagner,  and  became  more  nearly  acquainted  with 

244 


APPRECIATION  OF  WAGNERS  WORK 

The  Ring,  Tristan  und  Isolde,  etc.,  through  Materna 
and  Scaria,  who  sang  to  pianoforte  accompaniment. 

I  was  soon  so  infatuated  with  the  texts  of 
Wagner's  work  that  I  often  read  them  to  my  friends 
when,  as  frequently  occurred  at  small  parties,  I  was 
asked  to  read  aloud — a  talent  which,  above  all  others, 
I  may  be  allowed  to  call  my  own.  There  one  or 
another  musician  present  played  the  musical  accom- 
paniment to  it,  and  in  this  way  we  often  passed  the 
most  delightful  evenings. 

The  Lohengrin  problem  moved  me  most  of  all. 
When  I  heard  it  for  the  first  time  as  a  young  girl, 
I  fainted  with  emotion  in  the  theatre.  It  always 
moves  me  in  the  same  way,  for  I  consider  this 
Lohengrin  symbol  in  its  inner  meaning  to  be  one  of 
the  truest  and  most  tragic  in  the  literature  of  the 
whole  world. 

The  command,  "Never  ask,  nor  try  to  find  out 
whence  I  came,  what  my  name  is,  or  who  I  am," 
seems  to  me  to  contain  the  essence  of  the  cruel  secret 
of  the  gulf  that,  notwithstanding  love  and  possession, 
always  divides  two  human  beings.  For,  if  we  were 
to  transgress  the  command,  try  to  fathom  the  beloved 
being  whose  inner  self  has  remained  more  or  less  of  a 
problem  to  us,  if  we  try  to  discover  "  his  name  and 
whence  he  came,"  we  are  face  to  face  with  the  terrible 
revelation  that  knowledge  means  severance.  We 
should  always  discover  something  unexpected  and 
different  from  ourselves  in  the  person  we  love,  be  it 
a  god  who  must  withdraw  himself  the  moment  he  is 
disclosed,  or  be  it  a  demon  which  had  been  mercifully 
hidden  from  us,  and  before  whom  we  must  cover  our 
faces  and  behold  through  tears  the  wreck  of  our 
happiness. 

I  enlarged  on  this  idea  more  fully  in  an  essay  on 
"Theosophy  and  Art,"  and  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  longing  for  entire  comprehension  of 
the  other,  for  full  possession  and  intermingling  of 
soul  with  the  object  of  our  love,  can  only  be  felt  in 

245 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

moments  of  the  greatest  erotic  happiness  and  perfect 
union,  such  as  Richard  Wagner  describes  so  beauti- 
fully in  the  death -scene  of  Tristan  und  Isolde. 

Bodily  union  between  human  beings  must  always 
contain  the  germ  of  longing  to  overstep  the  boundary 
which  divides  one  soul  from  another,  because  in  that 
moment  man  most  nearly  approaches  God  the  creator. 
For  this  reason  the  delights  of  physical  union  played 
such  a  prominent  part  in  ancient  mysteries,  which 
were  supposed  to  represent  the  highest  capabilities  of 
the  soul. 

At  this  time  it  was  Wagner  who  helped  me  most 
to  understand  the  obscure  depths  of  human  nature, 
and  my  sojourn  in  Vienna  was  full  of  fascinating 
impressions. 

The  monetary  troubles  I  have  already  alluded  to 
compelled  me  to  go  on  theatrical  tours,  as  these  were 
more  remunerative  than  a  fixed  engagement.  In 
doing  this  I  followed  the  advice  of  friends,  but  I 
found  myself  utterly  unsuited  to  the  life. 

Delicate  in  health,  and  spoilt  from  childhood,  I 
was  not  happy  for  a  single  hour.  This  Bohemian 
life,  although  combined  with  a  certain  elegance  and 
luxury,  was  too  fatiguing  ;  for  the  constant  travelling 
and  rehearsing — also  acting  at  night — overtaxed  my 
strength.  I  remember  a  time  when,  after  playing  at 
night,  let  us  say  either  in  Hamburg  or  Cologne,  I  had 
to  get  up  next  morning  at  six,  travel  to  Kiel  or 
Elberfeld  by  train,  stand  rehearsing  until  twelve  or 
one  o'clock,  and  act  again  in  the  evening.  This  sort 
of  thing  happened  daily  for  weeks  on  end.  I  have 
often  heard  strong  healthy  men  say  they  could  not 
stand  it. 

It  was  a  different  thing  when  we  remained  for 
any  length  of  time  in  bigger  towns,  such  as  Berlin  or 
Dresden,  when  we  could  take  things  more  comfort- 
ably, and  I  could  enjoy  my  successes  in  peace. 

One  fact  in  connection  with  my  theatrical  career 
I  ought  to  mention.     I  was  often  asked  whether  I 

246 


KINDNESS  OF  COLLEAGUES 

did  not  suffer  from  the  envy  and  intrigues  of  my  col- 
leagues.    My  answer  was  then  as  now,  "  No,  never  1 " 

I  had  an  exceptional  position  in  Schwerin,  because 
Friedmann  and  I  drew  our  salaries  from  the  Grand 
Duke's  privy  purse ;  but  I  recall  with  the  deepest 
gratitude  the  extreme  kindness  all  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  of  the  company  exhibited  towards  me — 
who  was  only  a  beginner. 

From  the  public  also  I  received  so  many  marks  of 
kindness  that  I  remember  those  theatrical  days  with 
emotion.  I  have  lost  the  many  proofs  of  this  during 
my  travels,  and  can  only  quote  the  following  letter. 
The  writer  was  a  young  and  charming  woman,  and  it 
meant  a  great  deal  that  a  member  of  the  highest 
Mecklenburg  nobility  thus  approached  an  actress. 
After  visiting  me  she  wrote  : 

Dear  Madam — The  hours  I  spent  with  you  are  such  a 
pleasant  remembrance  that  I  deeply  regret  not  having  made 
your  acquaintance  earlier.  Now  that  you  are  on  the  point  of 
leaving  us  so  soon,  our  first  meeting  proves  to  me  how  much  I 
shall  lose  by  your  departure.  My  only  consolation  lies  in  the 
hope  that  we  may  meet  and  learn  to  know  each  other  better  at 
some  future  time. 

I  now  wish  more  than  ever  that  I  had  a  really  good  picture 
of  you.  If,  dear  madam,  you  could  spare  me  one  of  the 
coloured  ones  we  spoke  of,  I  should  be  deeply  grateful  and 
pleased  if  you  will  send  it  me.  I  enclose  a  portrait  of  myself, 
in  the  hope  that  you  will  understand  the  warmth  of  my  appre- 
ciation, and  not  consider  I  am  asking  too  much.  Trusting  that 
you  will  think  of  me  sometimes — I  am,  your  sincere  admirer, 

E.  von  M. 

P.S. — My  husband  begs  to  be  remembered  to  you  ! 

Such  proofs  of  sympathy  helped  me  through 
many  heavy  hours.  As  regards  the  kindness  of  my 
colleagues,  I  had  fresh  evidence  of  this  on  the 
occasion  when  we  were  invited  by  the  Berlin  Press 
to  give  a  performance  in  that  city.  I  was  to  play 
with  Friedrich  Haase  and  other  celebrities  of  the 
State  Theatre  in  Diplomats  of  the  Old  School  Just 
before  that  evening,  which   was  to  be  a  most  im- 

247 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

portant  one  in  my  career,  as  I  was  appearing  for  the 
first  time  before  the  critical  public  of  Berlin,  ill-luck 
had  it  that  I  caught  a  severe  cold.  I  woke  up  at 
night  to  find  I  had  lost  my  voice  entirely.  I  sent  for 
a  doctor  and  told  him  I  must  act  that  evening,  and 
must  find  my  voice  again.  He  said  it  was  absolutely 
impossible,  and,  on  my  insisting,  he  gave  me  such 
strong  remedies  that  I  might  have  lost  my  voice  for 
ever.  At  noon  I  was  already  able  to  make  myself 
heard  at  rehearsal.  Every  one  of  my  colleagues 
proved  their  kindness  in  trying  to  help  me.  They 
made  tea,  and  all  kinds  of  soothing  drinks  in  their 
dressing-rooms,  and  tried  to  console  and  encourage 
me.  The  director,  who  had  placed  his  enormous 
Victoria  Theatre  that  evening  at  the  disposal  of  the 
Press,  said  that  the  house  was  sold  out,  and  would 
have  been  if  it  had  been  three  times  the  size.  Places 
were  being  sold  at  the  Exchange  for  100  marks,  as 
every  one  in  Berlin  wanted  to  see  "  The  Racowitza." 

"Therefore,"  he  said,  "pull  yourself  together, 
because  you  will  have  to  expose  yourself  to  the 
severe  criticisms  of  friend  and  foe." 

At  this  Friedmann  said  quietly,  "She  need  have 
no  fear  in  this,  or  any  other  salon  role/' 

This  gave  me  courage,  but  I  trembled  when  I 
thought  of  my  voice. 

"  Shall  we  make  mention  of  it  ? "  said  the  director. 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  my  dear  friend  Fritz 
Haase ;  "  it  will  be  so  much  better  by  the  evening 
that  nobody  will  notice  the  hoarseness  unless  their 
attention  has  been  drawn  to  it." 

And  so  it  was.  The  evening  arrived,  and  Hedwig 
Niemann — Raabe  herself — came  to  my  room  to  assist 
me  to  make  up. 

The  great  moment  of  my  appearance  arrived. 
When  I  went  on  to  the  stage  in  a  very  beautiful 
white  gown,  I  was  greeted  by  storms  of  applause 
from  my  friends,  mingled,  however,  with  the  hisses  of 
enemies.     For  a  moment  my  heart  misgave  me,  then 

248 


GREAT  STAGE  ARTISTS 

I  saw  my  comrades  standing  in  the  wings,  nodding  at 
me  as  if  they  wished  to  help  their  child  with  kindly 
thoughts.  It  then  flashed  through  my  mind  :  "  The 
public  is  right ;  it  wants  to  see  what  you  are  capable 
of  doing  before  it  applauds."  I  began  to  speak,  my 
voice  sounded  full  and  clear,  and  1  grew  calmer. 

The  role,  which  is  most  sympathetic  to  me,  begins 
with  a  long  speech.  When  I  had  finished  it  a  volley 
of  cheers  burst  from  the  over-full  house,  it  seemed  as 
if  it  would  never  end.  I  had  won  over  my  Berlin 
public  for  all  time.  From  that  moment,  whenever  I 
returned  there,  I  was  sure  of  the  full  favour  of  the 
"  Spree- Athenians,"  usually  so  cool  and  critical,  and 
nowhere  did  I  play  with  greater  pleasure  than  before 
my  Berliners,  who  understood  every  nuance  of  my 
acting. 

The  same  occurred  in  Vienna.  I  can  only  think 
with  gratitude  of  the  kindness  I  invariably  met 
amongst  my  friends  of  this  much -maligned  pro- 
fession. 

There  is  not  much  of  importance  to  relate  in 
connection  with  my  theatrical  career ;  at  most,  a  few 
vivid  recollections  of  some  of  the  great  artists  of  the 
day. 

My  admiration  was  given  principally  to  Ludwig 
Dessoir,  whom  I  considered  one  of  the  greatest 
character  players  of  that  time.  He  was  a  member  of 
the  Berlin  State  Theatre,  and  no  one  regretted  his 
early  death,  from  softening  of  the  brain,  rnore  than  I 
did.  In  many  roles  I  deemed  him  greater  than 
Bogumil  Davison,  on  account  of  his  fine  understand- 
ing and  brilliant  rendering.  Oh,  if  one  could  only 
reproduce  one  of  the  impressions  he  transmitted  from 
the  stage  I 

This  would  be  impossible — quite  impossible ! 

Bogumil  Davison  had  perhaps  greater  incisiveness, 
and  was  certainly  wonderful  with  his  Slavonic  tempera- 
ment and  illuminating  mind,  but  he  hardly  moved  one 
to  the  depths  of  one's  being  as  Ludwig  Dessoir  did. 

249 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

Koberstein,  a  Dresden  actor,  thus  described  the 
two  great  masters  of  dramatic  art,  Bogumil  Davison 
and  the  eternally  young  and  handsome  Emil  Devrient. 
Koberstein  said :  "  The  fairies  went  to  Emil's  cradle 
and  laid  within  it  bodily  beauty,  fascinating  voice,  and 
power  over  the  hearts  of  women,  whilst  saying,  *  Now 
go  and  become  a  great  actor  ! ' " 

"  They  also  went  to  Bogumil's  cradle,  laid  therein 
the  same  gifts,  and  adding  mind  and  passion  to  them, 
said,  'Now  go  and  become  what  you  like,  you  will 
be  a  great  man  always  ! '  " 

The  following  opinion  was  expressed  regarding 
Davison's  charming  amiability  (which  Emil  Devrient 
also  possessed).  He  had  three  qualities,  one  of  which 
usually  suffices  to  make  a  man  absolutely  unbearable 
— he  was  a  Pole,  a  Jew,  and  an  actor  !  Yet  he  made 
it  possible  with  all  three  to  become  such  a  great, 
eminent,  and  amiable  being. 

Siegwart  Friedmann  was  Davison's  only  pupil, 
and  for  many  years  had  lived  with  him  and  his  witty 
and  excellent  wife  whilst  following  his  studies. 
Through  him  I  learnt  to  know  them  better,  and  not 
only  reverenced  him  as  an  artist,  but  appreciated  both 
of  them  in  their  delightful  home  in  Dresden. 

Every  one  mourned  when  he,  like  his  formidable 
rival  Dessoir,  succumbed  to  softening  of  the  brain. 

Whilst  mentioning  Davison's  wife,  who  remained 
my  friend  for  many  years,  I  should  like  to  testify  my 
gratitude  to  many  other  women  who,  although  not 
great  celebrities  in  art  or  literature,  stood  by  me  as 
friends  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word,  and  who,  if 
death  has  not  already  claimed  them,  still  brighten 
the  evening  of  my  life  by  their  faithful  affection. 

I  had,  and  still  have,  the  joy,  which  I  reckon  as 
one  of  the  best  things  in  my  life,  of  attracting  and 
retaining  the  deep  and  true  friendship  of  women, 
even  more  than  that  of  men.  Through  all  the  storm 
and  stress  of  my  varied  existence  I  have  never  been 
without  the  friendship  of  remarkable  women  of  all 

250 


GREAT  STAGE  ARTISTS 

grades  of  society.  I  keep  this  memory  in  the  secret 
chamber  of  my  heart,  and  place  it  as  the  most 
precious  jewel  in  the  crown  of  all  my  most  beautiful 
experiences !  I  am  very,  very  thankful  that  I  have 
had  to  suffer  so  little  from  the  usual  jealousy  of 
women,  and  from  intrigue  and  dislike  of  my  fellow- 
artists. 

I  can  complain  as  little  of  the  weakness,  infidelity, 
and  unreliability  of  men.  I  never  learnt  to  know  this 
side  of  them,  therefore  could  only  be  silent  or  defend 
them  when  they  were  discussed  in  this  capacity  by 
my  women  friends. 

Several  well-known  names  stand  out  in  my  mind. 
For  instance,  Marie  Seebach  and  her  engaging  little 
rival,  Hedwig  Raabe  (both  wives  of  Albert  Niemann), 
Auguste  Baudius-Wilbrandt,  Marie  Dambock-Strasz- 
mann,  Charlotte  Wolter,  Marie  Geistinger,  not  for- 
getting the  charming  little  Gallmeyer. 

Among  men,  I  particularly  remember  Albert 
Trager.  We  first  met  when  touring  in  Berlin.  A 
few  days  sufficed  to  form  a  friendship,  which  even 
to-day  is  one  of  the  most  valued  ones  in  my  life. 
Unfortunately  the  poems  he  wrote  me,  as  well  as  all 
the  criticisms  of  my  theatre  days,  were  lost  in  New 
York ;  but  much -prized  letters  still  speak  to  me  of 
that  delightful  time  of  good  comradeship  and  interest- 
ing correspondence. 

I  must  also  mention  another  fleeting  but  wonder- 
fully pleasant  acquaintanceship.  I  was  acting  in 
Berlin,  and  staying  at  the  Hotel  de  Rome.  When  I 
was  going  to  table  d'hote,  "  old  Miihling  "  (the  well- 
known  and  favourite  hotel  proprietor)  came  up  to 
me  and  said,  u  I  have  put  you  next  to  Wilhelmj.  I 
think  you  will  both  be  interested  to  know  each  other." 
And  so  it  was. 

When  I  first  arrived  in  Dresden,  I  was  told  in  the 
Hotel  Bellevue  that  some  one  had  inquired  several 
times  about  my  arrival.     "  A  gentleman  ? "  1  asked. 

"No,  not  exactly  a  gentleman — a  man,"  was  the 

251 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

answer ;  and  soon,  to  my  great  astonishment,  a  man, 
looking  like  a  superior  workman,  was  ushered  in. 

He  looked  at  me  quietly  for  a  short  time,  then 
said,  "  Dear  lady,  there  is  a  plot  against  you  among 
the  working  people  here.  They  intend  making  a 
great  demonstration  when  you  first  appear.  I  wanted 
to  tell  you  this,  and  warn  you,  for  I  always  took  your 
part,  because  I  do  not  believe  you  acted  as  badly 
against  our  Lassalle  as  many  of  us  think.  I  always 
say  you  were  too  young  and  weak,  and  could  have 
had  no  idea  how  it  would  end  ;  but  people  are  dread- 
fully against  you,  and  won't  listen  to  me.  I  thought 
to  myself,  *  When  she  comes  here  I  will  go  and  see 
her,  and  she  shall  tell  me  her  point  of  view  in  the 
matter,  and  we  shall  see  if  she  acted  wickedly  or  only 
thoughtlessly.'     Will  you  ? " 

I  was  much  touched  by  what  this  honest-looking, 
good-natured  man  said.  I  gave  him  my  hand, 
thanked  him,  and  told  him  all  my  sad  story — how  it 
had  driven  me  away  from  home  and  family ;  how  I 
was  alone  in  the  world  and  obliged  to  earn  my  living. 

The  man  listened  to  me  attentively,  then  said, 
"  Yes,  yes,  my  wife  and  I  imagined  something  of  the 
sort.  One  only  need  look  into  your  eyes  to  know 
you  are  a  good  soul.  I  thank  you  for  having  spoken 
to  me  as  if  I  were  a  brother ;  nothing  will  happen  to 
you  now,  you  can  depend  upon  me  for  this." 

He  then  left.  He  must  have  been  a  man  of  great 
influence  in  his  party ;  and  this  was  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  considering  his  broad  intelligence  and 
relatively  good  education.  It  was  as  he  had  promised 
me. 

I  cannot  deny  that  when  I  first  appeared  as  the 
Marquise  in  a  play  called  The  Lion  in  Love,  which 
had  many  points  in  common  with  my  own  story,  I 
was  somewhat  nervous.  The  house  was  crammed, 
and  one  look  at  the  gallery  showed  me  that  it  was 
packed.  At  first,  when  the  occupants  of  the  better 
seats  greeted  me  with  applause,  not  a  sound  came 

252 


PRESS  OPPOSITION 

from  that  quarter.  It  was  only  as  the  evening  wore 
on,  and  I  gradually  conquered  the  hearts  of  the 
critical  section,  that  they  let  themselves  be  carried 
away  by  their  impressions ;  and  in  the  end  their 
cheering  was  as  hearty  as  that  of  the  other 
spectators. 

Similar  scenes  occurred  in  Stettin  and  Breslau. 
In  those  towns  the  Socialistic  newspapers  were 
against  me,  and  hostile  placards  were  issued.  In 
Breslau  the  people  were  warned  against  my  coming, 
and  told  they  ought  not  to  allow  the  woman  who 
caused  Lassalle's  death  to  show  herself  in  the  town 
of  his  birth,  and  where  his  ashes  rested.  Fear  is  a 
thing  I  know  nothing  of,  therefore  I  took  no  notice 
of  the  prayers  and  warnings  of  my  friends,  and  went 
to  both  towns  on  tour. 

In  Stettin,  the  theatre  where  I  was  playing  lay 
rather  far  from  my  hotel. 

When  I  went  out  after  the  performance,  accom- 
panied only  by  my  maid,  the  carriage  which  usually 
awaited  me  was  not  there.  I  had  not  changed  my 
dress  (I  had  been  playing  again  in  Pon sard's  Lion 
in  Love),  and  as  it  was  a  dark-green  empire  gown, 
this  was  not  necessary. 

As  I  stepped  out  I  noticed  a  large  crowd  of  men 
waiting  at  the  exit.  I  say  "men,"  as  I  saw  at  a 
glance  they  were  not  gentlemen. 

"  Aha,"  I  thought,  M  now  it  is  coming  ! "  I  looked 
round  and  said  to  my  maid,  "  I  can't  stand  here  in 
the  cold.     Let  us  go  on  foot." 

Then  one  of  the  men  came  up  to  me  and  said 
civilly,  "It  is  very  dark  all  round  here,  and  you 
might  be  annoyed  on  the  way  home.  We  all  will 
accompany  you,  and — have  no  fear — we  will  land  you 
there  safely  1 " 

I  knew  by  the  tone  of  the  speaker  that  he  meant 
well,  thanked  him,  and  accepted  the  escort  of  all  of 
them. 

On  the  way  he  told  me  almost  the  same  thing  as 

253 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

the  man  in  Dresden  had,  that  he  and  one  or  two 
others  had  calmed  the  masses  who  were  to-day 
convinced  that  injustice  had  been  done  to  me,  and 
that  I  was  far  more  to  be  pitied  than  condemned. 

Thus  it  was  I  found  here,  as  so  often  in  life,  that 
people  were  kinder  and  more  comprehending  than  is 
generally  believed. 

In  Breslau  nothing  at  all  happened.  I  do  not 
know,  and  never  could  find  out,  who  it  was  who  had 
interceded  for  me,  and  worked  upon  the  minds  of  the 
people  there. 

It  was  in  Breslau  that  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
making  the  acquaintance  of  the  aged  Holtei,  the 
poet,  and  author  of  the  charming  work  Vagabonds. 
The  old  man,  who  was  then  over  eighty  years  of  age, 
was  so  bright  and  merry,  and  so  absolutely  clear  in 
his  mind,  that  I  was  delighted  with  him,  and  did  not 
mind  going  the  long  journey  to  the  institution  in 
which  he  lived  in  order  to  see  him  frequently.  I 
remember  writing  at  the  time  to  my  friend  Albert 
Thiger,  telling  him  how  much  I  liked  old  Holtei,  and 
how  I  wished  that  we  also,  if  ever  we  became  as  old 
as  he,  could  be  as  gay  and  as  fully  in  possession  of  all 
our  faculties. 

Well !  friend  Trager  at  least  has  reached  his 
seventieth  year  in  the  same  happy  conditions.  I, 
too,  am  not  so  very  far  off  it,  and  am  wondering  how 
it  will  be  with  me  then.     Qui  vivra  verra  ! 


254 


CHAPTER   XXX 

It  was  during  this  time  of  theatrical  touring  that  an 
event  happened  which,  after  a  certain  amount  of 
struggle,  caused  a  complete  change  in  my  life,  and, 
slight  as  it  seemed  at  the  time,  gave  the  stamp  to 
my  whole  future.  1  refer  to  my  meeting  with  my 
present  husband,  Serge  von  Schewitsch.  My  journeys 
led  me  to  Kissingen.  At  that  time  the  theatre  there 
was  managed  by  a  very  clever  director,  who  had 
asked  me  to  give  a  few  performances  of  my  best 
roles,  namely  those  of  salon  parts. 

A  friend  of  mine  was  taking  the  waters  there,  so 
the  idea  of  visiting  this  charming  Bavarian  health 
resort  was  doubly  welcome. 

My  friend,  a  Russian,  said  to  me  one  day  that 
two  delightful  compatriots  of  his  had  arrived,  an 
uncle  and  a  nephew,  Count  Bliidow  and  Serge  von 
Schewitsch. 

He  wanted  to  arrange  a  little  dinner  at  which  I 
was  to  make  their  acquaintance.     This  took  place. 

The  old  Count  sat  next  to  me  on  one  side,  and 
my  host  on  the  other.  We  got  on  splendidly,  and  I 
hardly  noticed  the  young  man  who  was  my  vis-a-vis, 
so  much  so  that,  when  my  friend  asked  me  next  day, 
"  How  did  you  like  that  clever  young  Schewitsch  ? 
has  he  cut  me  out  altogether  ? "  I  replied,  "  The  old 
man  is  charming,  I  hardly  noticed  the  younger  one." 

He,  when  he  was  asked  next  day  what  impression 
I  had  made  on  him,  replied,  "  Is  that  the  renowned 
beauty  ?     I  don't  think  her  so  beautiful ! "     Never- 

255 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

theless  the  woman  whom  Ferdinand  Lassalle  had 
loved,  interested  him.  It  was  therefore  no  coup  de 
foudre,  no  love  at  first  sight,  that  was  the  means  of 
riveting  our  destinies  together. 

Although  we  often  met  in  Kissingen,  neither  of 
us  was  particularly  interested  in  the  other,  and  we 
parted  almost  as  strangers. 

Two  months  later  I  was  standing  on  the  platform 
of  the  station  at  Salzburg  awaiting  the  arrival  of 
friends.  I  was  a  little  early,  and  was  idly  watching 
the  trains  which  came  from  various  quarters,  when 
out  of  one  of  them  stepped  an  elegant  young  man, 
who  came  up  to  me  smiling. 

At  the  first  moment  I  scarcely  remembered  who 
he  was,  but  as  soon  as  he  uttered  his  greeting  I  was 
struck  anew  by  the  timbre  of  his  sympathetic  voice,  one 
of  his  main  charms,  and  I  said  to  myself,  "  Oh  yes  I 
The  young  man  of  Kissingen,  Count  Bliidow's 
nephew  1 "  But  of  his  own  name  I  had  not  the 
remotest  idea. 

He  had  to  wait  at  Salzburg  for  his  train.  I,  too, 
had  to  wait,  as  my  friends  had  not  arrived,  so  we  sat 
at  an  empty  table,  and  were  soon  deep  in  a  serious  con- 
versation. I  then  understood  what  my  Russian  friend 
had  meant  when  he  called  the  young  man  "  clever." 
I  discovered  he  was  a  convinced  Socialist,  as  much  at 
home  in  the  writings  of  Lassalle  and  Carl  Marx  as  he 
was  in  the  great  literature  of  Germany,  France, 
Russia,  England,  and  Italy.  There  was  hardly  any- 
thing we  did  not  discuss  in  those  hours  at  the 
Salzburg  station,  for  I  let  my  friends  wait  for  me, 
and  my  new  and  youthful  friend  allowed  many  trains 
to  pass  without  attempting  to  take  advantage  of 
them.  When  at  last  the  parting  hour  arrived  he 
said,  "  Well  I  if  ever  you  want  to  write  your 
memoirs,  you  call  me,  and  dictate  them  to  me.  If  I 
am  alive  and  not  imprisoned  for  my  political  agitation, 
I  will  come  1 " 

I   nodded  and    laughed,   and    he  continued    his 

256 


AN  ARDENT  SUITOR 

journey.  It  only  then  occurred  to  me  that  I  did  not 
even  know  his  name.  However,  it  mattered  little,  as 
I  had  no  intention  of  writing  my  memoirs  yet  a 
while ! 

After  this  episode,  which  was  so  fateful  to  me,  I 
returned  to  Vienna.  About  this  time  there  had  been 
much  speculation  as  to  the  possibility  of  my  re 
marrying,  yet  I  was  clever  enough  not  to  accept  any 
of  the  proposals  that  were  made.  I  always  remained 
the  best  of  friends  with  my  lovers  when  they  became 
reasonable.  As  a  rule  they  agreed  with  me  when  I 
assured  them  I  was  not  born  to  be  a  housewife.  I 
said,  "  What  is  the  use  of  marrying,  if,  even  in 
advance,  one  depends  on  divorce  ?  One  cannot  make 
a  habit  of  such  things  ! " 

I  recall  one  case  which  concerned  a  good-natured 
young  man  of  excellent  family,  the  facts  of  which  I 
once  used  as  the  subject  for  a  novel.  I  will  touch 
upon  the  scene  which  formed  the  basis  of  my  refusal. 

I  liked  the  youth,  his  personal  appearance  and 
manners,  very  much.  He  had  often  assisted  me  in 
my  various  charities  among  the  poor  (a  trait  of  my 
character  which  I  have  not  spoken  of  hitherto,  and 
which  I  will  again  refer  to  later  on).  When  my 
means  for  these  charitable  practices  ran  short,  he 
often  supplemented  them,  and  I  should  have  been 
sorry  to  hurt  his  feelings  on  this  account. 

One  day  he  returned  to  his  idee  fixe,  as  I  called  it, 
and  once  again  pressed  me  to  marry  him.  I  said, 
"Just  tell  me,  dear  Count,  how  do  you  pass  your 
time  ?     For  instance,  when  do  you  get  up  ? " 

"  About  eleven  or  twelve  o'clock." 

"  And  then  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Well !  then  I  breakfast,  that  is  to  say,  after  I 
have  had  my  bath,  been  massaged,  dressed,  been 
shaved  by  my  man-servant" 

"  And  after  that  ? " 

"  Well !  one  lounges  about  a  bit,  looks  at  the 
newspapers,  reads  the  sporting  news,  and  so  forth." 

257  s 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

"  And  then  ? " 

"  Then  I  go  for  a  little  walk  in  the  Ringstrasse. 
I  generally  meet  somebody  or  other,  and " 

"Then,  I  suppose,"  I  added  impatiently,  "you 
have  a  little  chat  with  somebody  ?  " 

"Well — one  doesn't  exactly  chat — one  looks  at 
the  ladies  and  the  girls,  then  one  goes  home  to  change 
for " 

"For  what?" 

"  To  drive  out  visiting,  or  to  ride  in  the  Prater,  or 
go  to  the  club — or  dine  at  home  or  elsewhere." 

"  Does  all  this  amuse  you  ? " 

"Not  exactly ;  but  I  smoke  or  stand  about." 

"  What  do  you  do  in  the  evenings,  when  you  do 
not  come  and  see  me  act  ? " 

"  I  go  to  the  club." 

"  Do  you  read  much  there  ? "  I  asked,  amused  at 
his  ridiculous  answers. 

"  Read  !  "  replied  the  Count,  as  astonished  as  if  I 
had  asked  him  if  he  danced  on  the  tight-rope — "  read 
what  ?  " 

"  Do  you  gamble  ? " 

"  No,  I  never  gamble.  I  promised  my  late  father 
I  wouldn't,  and  so  I  don't" 

"  Then  you  talk  of  horses  or  dogs  ? " 

"  No,  they  don't  interest  me.  I  am  no  hunter, 
and  not  much  of  a  sportsman." 

"Well,  then,  I  suppose  you  talk  of  women,  or 
something  of  that  sort  ? "  I  asked. 

"  No  I  no  !  Phew  !  Who  would  talk  of  women 
at  the  club  ?  " 

"  Well !  what  in  the  world  do  you  do  at  the  club  ?" 

"  1  just  sit  there  and  look  about." 

I  hardly  contained  myself  any  longer,  but  added, 
however,  "Don't  you  bore  yourself  to  death  with 
such  a  life  ? " 

"  It  certainly  isn't  very  amusing,  and  that  is  the 
reason  I  want  to  marry  you,  because  you  are  so 
amusing  and  so  clever." 

258 


LIFE  IN  VIENNA 

"  My  dear  friend,"  I  exclaimed,  half  laughing,  half 
angrily,  "  that  would  be  quite  a  false  speculation,  for 
I  should  either  go  mad  or  become  horribly  dull,  or 
most  probably  I  should  run  away  from  you  in  a  few 
weeks." 

He  looked  quite  disturbed,  and  said  forlornly, 
"  Am  I  then  such  a  miserable  creature,  in  spite  of  my 
blue  blood  and  all  my  money  ? " 

"  Not  that  exactly,"  I  said.  "  You  would  make  a 
charming  husband  for  a  little  Comtesse  in  your  own 
set,  but  not  for  Helene  Racowitza — any  more  than  I 
should  be  the  right  wife  for  you.  We  can  be  good 
friends,  of  course,  but  nothing  more." 

We  remained  the  best  of  comrades  until  I  left 
Vienna.  He  died  a  few  years  later,  either  of  con- 
sumption or  boredom,  before  he  made  any  one  happy 
by  marrying  her.  The  rest  of  my  aspiring  friends 
were  less  dull  than  he.  Nevertheless,  none  of  them 
were  suitable  in  my  mind  for  marriage,  and  I  was 
glad  I  was  never  tempted  to  burden  myself  with  the 
responsibility  of  any  of  them. 

Now  I  will  quote  one  or  two  comic  episodes  in 
connection  with  the  characters  I  have  alluded  to. 
As  I  said  before,  I  was  not  always  flush  of  money, 
but  I  generally  had  enough  to  help  those  who  were 
worse  off  than  I. 

On  sundry  occasions  I  had  helped  a  young  Polish 
actor  who  was  playing  the  role  of  leading  lover  in  the 
Court  Theatre  at  Warsaw,  and  who  interested  us  all 
in  Vienna  very  much.  He  was  trying  to  get  over  an 
unhappy  affair  with  a  ballet  dancer,  which  had  driven 
him  to  the  verge  of  poisoning  himself. 

This  fact  and  his  fame  as  an  actor  gave  him  a  sort 
of  nimbus  that  attracted  us. 

I  had  learned  to  know  him  better  when  we  met  in 
a  sanatorium  near  Vienna,  where  we  both  were  sent 
to  recruit  our  nerves  (he  for  the  effects  of  his  unhappy 
love  affair,  I  for  the  result  of  a  severe  illness). 

I  was  extremely  sorry  for  the  poor  fellow,  who 

259 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

was  still  in  the  throes  of  his  passion,  and  asked  all  my 
colleagues  to  take  pity  on  him.  He  seemed  to  amuse 
himself  very  well  in  Vienna,  where  I  saw  him  now 
and  then  after  my  return. 

One  day  he  came  to  me  in  great  excitement.  He 
said  he  had  just  received  a  telegram  from  Warsaw 
saying  that  his  lady-love  was  dying ;  he  must  return 
there  at  once,  but  for  the  moment  he  had  not  the 
necessary  means.  He  needed  a  few  hundred  florins 
to  enable  him  to  leave  Vienna  and  reach  Warsaw.  In 
any  case,  his  leave  would  be  over  in  a  few  days.  In 
short,  could  I  lend  him  the  money. 

I  had  not  got  it  at  the  time,  but  I  was  wearing 
several  costly  rings,  and  at  the  moment  he  was 
speaking  to  me  I  had  on  a  most  beautiful  emerald  in 
(i  Duchesse  "  form,  worth  several  thousand  marks. 

I  drew  this  from  my  finger,  gave  it  to  the  young 
Pole  and  told  him  to  pawn  it,  to  take  as  much  money 
as  he  wanted,  and  to  send  me  the  balance  with  the 
ticket  by  a  friend  he  named. 

He  wept  with  joy,  and  hastened  away  with  the 
ring.  I  heard  and  saw  nothing  more  either  of  the 
ring,  the  man,  or  the  friend. 

I  was  chaffed  unmercifully  by  my  colleagues. 
Every  day  for  a  long  time,  one  or  another  said,  "  The 
Racowitza  has  still  a  lot  of  beautiful  jewellery ;  they 
also  were  summoned  to  a  dying  lover,  and  did  not 
see  why  she  should  have  more  compassion  for  the 
unknown  Pole  than  for  her  own  respectable  comrades 
of  the  Vienna  Theatre.  If  there  were  no  more  rings 
to  be  had,  they  would  be  satisfied  with  brooches  or 
ear-rings  I " 

I  was  chaffed  still  more  about  the  following.  I 
had  received  a  letter  with  the  most  noble  signature. 
An  unhappy  father  implored  me  to  give  him  an  inter- 
view. He  had  a  daughter  in  Munich  ;  he  could  tell 
me  no  more  than  this  by  letter ;  I  could  do  him  an 
enormous  service,  and  save  this  daughter  from  a  great 
calamity,  if  I  would  only  see  him !     He  dared  not 

260 


LIFE  IN  VIENNA 

come  and  see  me  personally,  as  he  was  married  and  in 
a  very  prominent  position.  For  these  reasons  he 
could  not  expose  himself  to  idle  talk  by  visiting  a  lady 
belonging  to  the  stage  !  He  wanted  me  to  take  com- 
passion on  him  and  meet  him  at  a  certain  place.  As 
I  was  always  rather  cautious  with  letters  from  un- 
known persons,  I  showed  it  to  my  friends. 

Some  of  them  urged  me  to  go,  others  warned  me 
against  some  treachery.  However,  the  author  had 
thrown  himself  on  my  compassion,  and  as  I  did  not 
want  to  appear  a  coward,  I  went. 

I  found  a  very  worthy  looking  old  gentleman, 
who,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  thanked  me  for  coming. 

After  some  shilly-shallying,  I  asked  in  what  way 
I  could  be  useful  to  him,  as  I  knew  only  a  very  few 
people  in  Munich  now. 

"And  if  it  were  only  one  person,"  he  said,  "as 
long  as  this  person  were  reliable  ! " 

He  had  a  daughter  by  a  former  marriage  (or 
something  equivalent,  he  added,  smiling)  who  was  a 
thorn  in  the  side  of  his  present  wife.  She  had  now 
married  an  artist,  or  musician,  and  consequently  cut 
herself  entirely  off  from  her  fathers  circle.  Lately, 
after  many  years,  he  had  learned  from  a  friend  who 
was  passing  through  Munich  that  his  daughter  was 
in  very  bad  circumstances,  and  he  would  like  to  find 
out,  through  me,  if  this  were  so.  In  any  case,  he 
wanted  to  send  her  some  money.  I  was  quite 
touched,  for  the  story  had  great  similarity  with  my 
own.  The  confidence  the  old  gentleman  placed  in  me 
did  me  good,  I  promised  everything,  and  we  said 
farewell.  Next  morning  I  received  a  letter  asking 
would  I  be  good  enough  to  send  a  ten-pound  order 
immediately  to  Barbara  Malmeyer — poste  restante, 
Munich  1  He  could  not  go  out  himself  to-day,  but 
he  would  return  me  the  money  personally  on  the 
morrow  at  the  same  time  and  place  as  before.  I 
chanced  to  have  the  money,  as  it  was  pay  day,  and, 
not  wishing  to  disappoint  the  worthy  old  man,  I  sent 

261 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

it.  He  was  not  there  next  day,  nor  have  I  ever 
heard  of  him  since  ! 

On  making  inquiries,  I  found  that  the  man  who 
really  bore  the  name  signed  by  my  old  gentleman 
was  quite  a  different  person,  although  they  were 
somewhat  alike  in  personal  appearance,  and  that  I  had 
simply  been  taken  in  in  rather  a  foolish  way. 

The  old  swindler  had,  without  doubt,  found  out 
something  of  my  disposition,  and  counted,  rightly,  on 
my  not  following  the  matter  up.     Neither  did  I. 

Both  the  "  worthy  old  gentleman  "  and  the  "genial 
Pole  "  were  for  a  long  time  equivalents  for  swindling 
and  cheating. 

Apropos  of  cheating  and  swindling,  I  remember 
an  amusing  story.  During  the  summer  I  was  travel- 
ling for  some  time,  then  went  to  a  bathing-place, 
leaving  my  household  in  charge  of  a  faithful  Hun- 
garian cook. 

After  my  return,  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a 
young  man  who  was  a  resident  in  the  Theresianum 
— the  institution  devoted  entirely  to  sons  of  the 
Viennese  nobility. 

The  beautiful  park  of  this  educational  institute 
lay  just  opposite  my  dwelling,  and  the  lovely  view 
was  one  of  its  principal  attractions. 

After  he  had  been  to  see  me  several  times,  he 
asked  me  one  day,  very  mysteriously,  if  he  might 
bring  his  friend  Count  K.  to  see  me.  The  Count 
had  been,  until  a  little  time  ago,  also  a  "  Theresianer." 

"  Certainly,  with  pleasure ! "  I  replied. 

"  But,"  stammered  my  still  very  shy  friend,  "  you 
know  that  in  summer " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  ■  in  summer '  ? " 

At  first  he  would  say  nothing  more  than,  "He 
doesn't  think  so — and  for  this  reason  he  told  me  to 
ask  you " 

At  this  I  grew  half  impatient,  half  curious,  then 
he  came  out  with  a  strange  story.  He,  my  young 
friend,  had  mentioned  my  name,  and  told  Count  K. 

262 


LIFE  IN  VIENNA 

that  he  read  French  authors  with  me,  and  that  I  had 
been  the  first  to  make  him  thoroughly  understand 
Shakespeare  and  the  German  classics.  Count  K. 
had  acquiesced  smilingly  when  Baron  de  G.  had 
raved  about  my  beauty  and  amiability,  but  as  regards 
the  latter  part  of  the  story,  his  smile  changed  to 
mockery  when  the  cultivation  of  my  mind  was  in 
question,  and  he  exclaimed,  "Nonsense,  nonsense! 
The  Racowitza  is  anything  you  like,  but  don't  talk 
about  her  education.  Why,  she  is  a  Hungarian  ; 
charming  enough,  but  often  very  peculiar." 

"  Oh,  you  know  her  then  ?  Where  did  you  meet  ? " 
asked  my  young  friend  inquisitively. 

"  Well,  I  didn't  speak  of  it,  but  in  summer,  while 
you  and  all  the  others  were  away  for  your  holidays, 
I  got  very  intimate  with  the  beautiful  lady." 

I  was  naturally  very  astounded  at  hearing  this, 
and  told  him  to  confront  me  with  him  at  once. 
Shortly  afterwards,  Baron  de  G.  and  his  friend 
Count  K.,  who  was  an  utter  stranger  to  me,  stood 
before  me.  The  latter  opened  his  eyes  even  wider 
than  I  did.  He  looked  around  in  astonishment,  first 
at  the  room,  then  at  me,  and  lastly  at  the  garment 
I  was  wearing,  which  was  a  white  silk  tea -gown 
embroidered  in  pale  blue  and  silver,  and  therefore  a 
little  unusual.  He  then  exclaimed  breathlessly, 
seemingly  overcome  by  the  peculiarity  of  the  situa- 
tion, "Pardon,  it  is  really  too  extraordinary.  The 
room  is  the  same,  the  dress  is  the  same — but  the 
lady  is  not  the  same — not  at  all  the  same  I  " 

u  Good  heavens  1  this  is  madness  ! "  I  exclaimed. 
"What  did  the  person  look  like  who  was  supposed 
to  be  me  ? " 

Count  K.,  who  was  still  a  very  young  man, 
stammered  in  confusion,  "  She  is  black  as  a  coal, 
with  large  black  eyes.  She  always  had  long  gloves 
on,  which  reached  to  her  elbows,  and  is  quite,  quite 
different.  Besides  this,  she  speaks  with  a  strong 
Hungarian  accent." 

263 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

For  a  moment  we  all  three  stared  at  each  other. 
Then  an  idea  struck  me.  I  rang  for  my  maid,  and 
told  her  to  tell  Marie,  the  pretty  Hungarian  cook, 
to  come  to  the  drawing-room  at  once,  just  as  she 
was.  She  appeared,  quite  smart,  but  very  cook-like. 
Tableau ! 

On  the  threshold  she  burst  out,  "Jesus,  Marie, 
and  Joseph  I  The  Count !  Oh  my  !  Gracious  lady  ! 
No,  I  won't  stay  a  moment ! n  and  off  she  ran. 

The  person  who  was  most  upset  at  the  whole 
affair  was  the  Count.  He  was  infinitely  ashamed  at 
having  been  so  duped,  and  our  assurances  that  such 
an  "  accident w  could  easily  happen  to  any  young  man 
who  was  not  careful,  made  very  little  impression  on 
him.  He  left,  and  nothing  would  induce  him  to 
come  to  the  "  dangerous  "  house  again. 

When  I  asked  the  ambitious  cook,  who  was 
sobbing  in  the  kitchen,  how  she  had  dared  to  take 
him  in  so,  and  even  go  to  the  length  of  wearing  my 
dresses,  she  replied,  quite  crushed,  "  He  was  so 
nice,  the  Herr  Graf — and  if  he  had  known  I  was 
only  miladi's  cook,  he  would  never  have  come." 

"  But  how  did  you  make  his  acquaintance  ? " 

"I  saw  him  in  the  Theresianum  garden,  and  I 
made  signs  to  him." 

"  And  my  dress,  and  my  gloves  1  how  can  you 
have  dared  to  wear  them  ? " 

"Oh,  madam,  I  always  had  a  bath  first,  before  I 
put  them  on ;  and  without  gloves  he  would  have  seen 
my  red  hands  and  wouldn't  have  believed  1 " 

I  could  not  help  laughing,  but  nevertheless  told 
the  all-too-gifted  cook  to  fold  her  tents  and  depart, 
especially  as  I  discovered  that  whilst  playing  "the 
lady  "  she  had  proved  herself  too  generous  with  my 
wine  cellar  towards  her  aristocratic  young  friend,  and 
especially  had  not  spared  my  champagne. 

The  ridiculous  story  was  the  source  of  the  greatest 
amusement  to  all  my  friends  for  a  long  time  ;  and  they 
laughed  particularly  at  the  credulity  of  the  youthful 

264 


LEAVE  FOR  RUSSIA 

Count,  who  had  mistaken  a  Hungarian  cook  for 
Helene  von  Racowitza. 

During  the  following  winter,  the  great  exertions 
entailed  by  my  theatrical  touring  weakened  my  health 
considerably.  The  doctors  on  the  Rhine,  where  I 
stayed  a  great  deal,  advised  me  to  give  up  my  profes- 
sion for  a  time,  and  to  seek  recovery  in  Italy. 

Italy  ?  No  1  Some  of  my  family  were  living  there. 
Also  that  country  held  only  sad  recollections  for  me. 
I  did  not  want  to  go  there.  I  didn't  like  Paris  either. 
A  soft  mild  climate  was  never  good  for  my  nerves. 

But  the  North,  the  land  of  snow  and  ice,  the 
home  of  my  first  love  —  that  tempted  me  ;  the 
magnificent  Russian  metropolis  —  St.  Petersburg  I 
It  beckoned  to  me,  and  I  followed  its  call.  I  went 
there  in  spite  of  the  astonishment  and  warning  of  my 
friends,  in  spite  of  the  head-shaking  of  the  doctors ; 
I  was  drawn  thither  as  if  I  were  following  the  call 
of  Destiny. 

Without  special  object,  or  any  reason  that  could 
further  my  interests,  and  as  there  was  nothing  to 
prevent  my  doing  so,  I  followed  my  fancy. 


265 


PART   VI 

St.  Petersburg — Journey — Life  and  doings  there — Some  dark 
episodes — The  great  love  of  my  life  comes — A  strange 
beginning — Mysterious  "Walter" — Journey  from  St. 
Petersburg  to  Paris — In  Paris — London — To  America. 


267 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

My  journey  to  St.  Petersburg  was  not  accomplished 
in  the  usual  way.  When  I  was  starting,  I  met  a 
German  Prince  of  my  acquaintance,  who  was  about 
to  visit  his  sister,  the  wife  of  a  Russian  Grand  Duke. 
We  were  both  delighted  to  meet,  and  I  travelled  in 
grand  style  in  the  extra  royal  carriage  which  was 
waiting  at  the  frontier.  In  short,  I  travelled  most 
pleasantly  in  every  way.  The  Prince  and  his  suite 
were  amusing  and  clever  companions,  and  the  hours 
flew  so  that  we  could  hardly  believe  it  when  we 
reached  St.  Petersburg. 

Arriving  in  such  style  and  company,  I  soon  came 
in  contact  with  members  of  the  noblest  families,  and 
before  long  learnt  to  appreciate  their  amiability, 
cleverness,  and  kindness  of  heart.  It  is  true  that, 
despite  their  fastidious  refinement  and  elegant 
manners,  they  sometimes  gave  vent  to  ideas  that 
were  most  astounding ;  this  seemed  to  transport 
one  suddenly  into  the  heart  of  Asia. 

Prince  Ob  was  an  exceptionally  clever  elderly 
man ;  one  could  chat  on  every  imaginable  subject 
with  him  in  the  pleasantest  way.  He  was  equally 
familiar  with  Russian,  German,  French,  and  English 
literature.  In  short,  he  made  an  absolutely  European 
impression.  One  day  the  conversation  turned  on 
politics.  At  that  time  (I  speak  of  1875-76)  the  first 
signs  were  observed  in  St.  Petersburg  which  led  in 
1881  to  the  assassination  of  the  Emperor  Alexander 
II.,  the  consequences  of  which  are  felt  even  to-day. 

269 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

Numbers  of  young  people  were  arrested  and 
banished  to  Siberia,  without  trial,  every  one  knows 
under  what  cruelties. 

We  began  talking  of  this,  and  I  expressed  my 
sympathy  for  the  poor  things.  Then  the  old  Prince, 
who  was  otherwise  so  good-natured  and  pleasant, 
said,  "  There  we  are  again  !  People  do  nothing  else 
but  make  martyrs  out  of  these  young  madcaps  1  Of 
course  this  encourages  all  the  others.  One  ought  to 
give  every  political  criminal  fifty  strokes  with  the 
knout,  then  their  nimbus  would  be  taken  away  from 
them,  and  the  shame  of  it  would  cure  the  rest." 

"  My  dear  Prince,"  I  exclaimed  in  horror,  "  what 
a  barbarous  idea  !     Of  course  you  are  only  joking." 

"  I  was  never  so  serious  !  One  can  only  cure  such 
social  evils  with  the  knout.  If  one  treated  the  fools 
like  street-boys  instead  of  martyrs,  the  others  would 
mind  what  they  were  doing  1 " 

It  is  impossible  to  argue  against  such  views.  In 
consequence  of  this  and  similar  conversations,  I  often 
said,  "  The  Russian  mind  is  like  the  kingdom  itself, 
very  broad,  very  rich  and  fruitful ;  but  there  suddenly 
comes  the  boundary  which  is  drawn  so  rigidly  that  the 
foreigner  cannot  overstep  it  without  passports ;  and 
only  beyond  the  border  comprehension  begins  again.' 

Here  is  another  case.  A  friend  of  my  future 
husband,  a  highly  educated  doctor,  had  become  a 
political  suspect.  He  was  dragged  away  from  his 
people  in  the  middle  of  the  night  and  thrown  into 
the  terrible  fortress  of  Peter  and  Paul.  He  had  been 
there  for  months,  and  no  one  had  heard  of  him  again. 
This  fortress  is  beautifully  situated,  commanding 
the  finest  views,  and  in  its  wonderful  church  the 
Emperors'  graves  are  to  be  seen  in  all  their  glory; 
yet  it  contains  all  the  infinite  wretchedness  of  these 
poor  political  prisoners.  They  languish  here,  bereft 
of  the  hope  of  a  just  trial,  or  indeed  any  trial  at  all, 
in  the  damp,  dark,  dirty  dungeons  below,  which  are 
kept  in  a  manner  befitting  the  Middle  Ages,  until 

270 


LIFE  IN  ST.  PETERSBURG 

merciful  death  releases  them  from  their  misery ;  or, 
should  this  be  too  long  in  coming,  until  (according  to 
the  official  expression)  they  are  "banished"  to  Siberia. 

At  last  it  was  known  (I  know  not  through  which 
secret  channel)  that  the  poor  doctor  was  nearly  blind, 
and  consumptive.  His  well-to-do  family  (he  had  a 
wife  and  young  children)  hesitated  at  no  pecuniary 
sacrifice  to  try  and  gain,  not  freedom  (for  they  knew 
this  was  impossible),  but  only  so  much  mercy  as  to 
allow  the  poor  sick  creature  to  be  transported  into  a 
less  deadly  prison. 

I  had  the  doubtful  privilege  of  knowing  the  two 
most  powerful  generals  of  St.  Petersburg,  "old 
Trepoff,"  the  father  of  that  one  now  so  much  talked 
of,  and  General  Count  Mesentzow.  These  two  were 
just  then  at  the  head  of  the  Chiefs  of  Police  and  of 
Secret  Police. 

I  addressed  myself  first  to  General  Trepoff.  He 
replied  that  the  affair  was  already  in  the  department 
of  the  third  division,  i.e.  of  the  Secret  Police  ;  it  was 
a  matter  for  General  Mesentzow  to  see  into.  On 
applying  to  the  latter,  I  received  a  smiling  assurance 
that  he  had  nothing  to  say  on  the  question — it  was 
wholly  in  the  hands  of  Trepoff! 

It  dragged  on  for  a  time,  until  one  day  General 
Mesentzow  received  the  confidential  advice  that  / 
had  better  not  interfere  in  the  unpleasant  business, 
otherwise  I  might  find  myself  entangled  in  serious 
difficulties  ! 

Every  child  knew  at  that  time  what  this  meant. 
The  bare  possibility  made  me  shudder  ! 

The  crime  of  the  prisoner  in  question  was  this  : 
he  had  given  one  of  the  prisoners  sent  to  Siberia  a 
little  bottle  of  morphia,  in  case  the  latter  found  the 
misery  more  than  he  could  bear. 

After  that  we  could  find  out  nothing  more  about 
him,  nor  what  became  of  him,  but  supposed  that  his 
death,  in  order  not  to  excite  attention,  was  passed 
over  in  silence. 

271 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOW1TZA 

Anyhow,  it  was  wisest  on  my  part,  being  a 
foreigner,  to  adopt  the  same  silence,  in  order  to  avoid 
being  implicated  in  an  unpleasant  dilemma. 

The  two  generals  above  mentioned  became  victims 
of  the  Revolutionists,  or,  as  they  were  then  called, 
of  the  Nihilists.  Trepoff  was  mortally  wounded  by 
Wjera  Sassulitsch,  whilst  Mesentzow  perished  in  a 
bomb  explosion. 

•  ••••• 

Away  now  with  these  dismal  pictures  !  There 
were  enough  beautiful  and  brilliant  things  to  look  at 
and  experience  in  St.  Petersburg. 

I  was  above  all  attracted  by  the  magnificent 
"  Eremitage."  I  passed  hours  and  hours  in  the 
unique  royal  picture  gallery.  I  knew  every  work  of 
art  and  its  place  there  so  well  that  I  could  easily 
have  served  as  guide,  which,  in  fact,  I  did  whenever 
friends  of  mine  came  from  abroad  and  wanted  to  see 
the  treasures  of  the  Russian  metropolis. 

The  superfluous  magnificence  of  the  churches  and 
palaces  had  less  attraction  for  me,  but  I  loved  the 
nightly  troika  drives,  with  their  mad  speed  through 
the  snow,  gleaming  brightly  in  the  darkness ;  the 
fabulous  luxury  at  the  end  of  them  when,  in  some 
splendid  restaurant  far  away  from  the  capital,  a 
magnificent  repast  with  costly  wines  would  be  served 
to  entrancing  gipsy  music,  which  made  every  one, 
especially  non-Russians,  forget  all  the  fatigue  of  the 
drive.  The  wonderful  attraction  of  all  these  things 
seemed  drawn  from  some  fairy  kingdom. 

Then  came  the  long  "  white  nights,"  so  loved  by 
the  people  of  the  north — but  which  told  terribly  on 
my  nerves — when  Russians  expect  that  they  and  their 
friends  are  to  regard  sleep  and  fatigue  as  non-existent ; 
when  activity  is  transferred  from  the  troikas  to  the 
Neva,  which  is  covered  with  small  steamers,  and 
when  there  is  a  life  and  brightness  on  the  river  which 
only  St.  Petersburg  knows. 

It  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  Russian  character,  or 

272 


LIFE  IN  ST.  PETERSBURG 

rather  of  the  people  of  St.  Petersburg,  that  they 
adore  rushing  and  storming  onwards  for  no  ostensible 
reason.  In  London  the  everlasting  hurry  of  the  city 
man  has  a  great  and  powerful  goal — the  earning  of 
money.  The  proverb,  "  Time  is  money,"  was  invented 
by  an  Englishman.  The  same  thing  holds  good  in 
America,  added  to  the  device,  "We  must  never  let  our- 
selves be  done."  In  Petersburg  men  and  vehicles  rush 
and  hurry,  but  without  aim,  simply  for  the  pleasure  of 
doing  it !  Perhaps  they  wish  to  compensate  them- 
selves by  this  for  the  retrograde  condition  of  their 
national  development !  Perhaps,  however,  it  is 
merely  the  expression  of  a  superfluity  of  strength 
which,  hemmed  in  in  other  ways,  thus  finds  its 
relief ! 

One  sees  in  this  remarkable  people  more  contra- 
dictory traits  of  character  than  in  any  other.  To  a 
stranger  each  person  is  as  much  of  an  enigma  as  the 
whole  people ;  good-natured  even  to  sacrifice,  yet 
withal  cruel  and  without  compassion  ;  clever  and  with 
a  brilliant  mind,  and  at  the  same  time  capable  of 
doing  the  maddest  and  most  stupid  things  ;  courageous 
and  ready  to  do  heroic  deeds,  yet  capable  of  cowardly 
lying  in  order  to  evade  some  trivial  unpleasantness ; 
true  and  false,  active  and  energetic,  yet  indescribably 
lazy ;  at  once  capable  of  the  highest  and  lowest 
qualities,  a  mixture  of  the  best  and  the  worst — such 
is  the  Russian ! 

No  other  people,  however,  has  such  a  mingling  of 
racial  elements,  and  European,  Asiatic,  Aryan-Tartar- 
Mongolian  peculiarities  are  mixed  in  this  remarkable 
kingdom  of  the  future.  I  repeat  once  more  that  all 
the  curious  features  are  to  be  found  in  each  person  as 
strongly  as  in  the  whole  vast  race. 

I  have  no  intention  of  increasing  the  quantities  of 
description  of  journeys  and  impressions  of  Russia,  and 
will  only  mention  here  what  struck  me  most  during 
my  first  stay  in  the  country  of  the  Tsar,  and  this 
was,  the  preference  the  people  seemed  to  have  for 

273  T 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

light  and  brilliant  colours,  not  alone  in  their  dress, 
as  every  one  knows,  but  in  the  painting  of  every 
object  that  is  "  pain  table  "  ;  even  the  simplest  peasants' 
sleighs  had  the  horses'  yokes  and  all  the  woodwork 
coloured  in  light  green  (evidently  a  favourite  colour) 
which  was  pleasant  to  behold.  Their  wood-carving 
is  both  striking  and  beautiful,  and  on  most  of  the 
wooden  houses  in  the  suburbs  and  country  it  is 
picked  out  in  the  gayest  colours.  The  outward 
impressions,  therefore,  are  bright  and  friendly  —  in 
spite  of  the  desolate  poverty  reigning  within. 

There  was  enough  to  look  at  and  to  learn  until 
the  consummation  of  my  Fate,  which  tapped  at  my 
door  one  day  when  I  was  sitting  in  my  drawing-room 
alone,  and  a  little  bored. 

Without  thinking  I  called  out  "Herein!"  and 
there  it  stood  in  the  doorway,  in  the  shape  of  the 
young  man — whose  name  I  had  forgotten  !  It  shot 
through  my  mind  as  I  greeted  him  joyfully :  "Ah! 
the  young  man  from  Kissingen  I  Lassalle's  clever 
admirer  of  the  Salzburg  station  ! " 

He  had  heard  of  my  presence  in  Petersburg  from 
a  mutual  friend ;  had  come  to  see  me ;  found  no  one 
in  the  ante-room,  and  here  he  was,  asking  laughingly 
if  I  wanted  to  write  my  memoirs  now,  and  if  I  should 
dictate  them  to  him  ? 

No,  indeed,  I  would  not,  but  I  would  chat  with 
him  for  a  few  hours  with  pleasure.  I  had  found  very 
few  people  in  Petersburg  who  really  interested  me,  so 
it  happened  that  we  were  very  soon  deep  in  all  sorts 
of  problems.  We  talked  till  other  guests  were  an- 
nounced, and  then  it  occurred  to  me  again  that  I  did 
not  even  know  the  name  of  my  visitor. 

I  was  ashamed  to  confess  that  I  did  not  know  it, 
after  such  an  intimate  conversation,  for  I  had  spoken 
to  him  very  openly  about  myself  and  my  life. 

I  then  thought  of  a  little  ruse  and  said,  "  Let  us 
send  a  telegram  to  the  friend  who  invited  us  together 
at  Kissingen,  and  let  us  both  sign  it." 

274 


AN  UNKNOWN  FRIEND 

"  Yes,  let  us,"  he  agreed. 

I  wrote  and  signed,  and  pushed  the  paper  over  to 
him  for  his  signature,  with  the  remark  that  we  could 
send  it  at  once  from  the  hotel — but  he  folded  it  up 
and  said  quietly,  "  I  am  sorry  I  must  go  at  once.  I 
will  take  it  with  me  to  the  post-office  en  passant" 
He  left  me  once  more  without  my  having  found 
it  out ! 

My  friends  laughed  at  me  for  having  sat  hours  on 
end  with  a  "nameless  one"  who  nevertheless  had 
turned  into  an  "intimate  one,"  and  whom  I  did  not 
know  ! 

One  of  those  who  had  been  announced  had  greeted 
him,  Russian  fashion,  as  "  Sergei  y  Egorowitsch  " — 
therefore  I  presumed  he  knew  his  surname. 

"  Well,  Prince  W.,  what  is  his  name  ? w  I  asked, 
after  they  had  teased  me  quite  enough. 

"  Well !  Sergei  Egorowitsch  !  I  don't  know  more 
than  that.  I  meet  him  at  Court,  and  in  all  the  circles 
of  the  grand  monde.  His  friends  all  call  him  by  that 
name.     I  know  nothing  more." 

So  it  remained  for  a  few  days  until  at  last  Prince 
W.  said  to  me  that  he  had  found  out  at  the  Minister 
Timoschew's,  where  they  both  visited,  that  the  name 
of  my  dark  unknown  friend  was  Schewitsch ;  he  was  of 
very  good  family,  with  three  brothers,  one  of  them  in 
the  Embassy  in  Rome,  one  Governor  of  a  big  district 
in  the  South ;  he  himself  was  in  the  Senate,  and  in 
consequence  in  the  Government  service. 

The  name  which  has  now  been  my  own  for  so 
long  was  communicated  to  me  thus,  amid  laughter 
and  jokes,  and  I  said,  "Well,  after  all  this  trouble 
and  these  obstacles,  I  won't  forget  it  again  ! " 


275 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

I  never  did  forget  it  again,  for  out  of  this  seemingly 
trivial  beginning  there  arose  a  mighty  love — one 
that  has  defied  every  obstacle,  and  has  risen  victorious 
over  every  sacrifice,  which  even  to-day,  after  more 
than  thirty  years,  is  proof  against  dangers,  storm, 
shipwreck,  and  struggles,  and  which  every  new  mis- 
fortune only  serves  to  rivet  more  firmly. 

For  the  time  being,  it  was  a  sort  of  good-fellow- 
ship, such  as  I  have  often  enjoyed  during  my  life 
with  eminent  men. 

If  life  means  love,  it  was  only  now  that  I  began 
to  live !  It  is  true  that  in  the  beginning  I  did  not 
recognise  the  tender  shoot  that  reared  its  head  among 
the  entangled  weeds.  It  had  to  grow  first,  and 
flourish,  in  order  to  show  what  a  mighty  tree  was  to 
spring  from  this  apparently  insignificant  plant.  I 
took  no  notice  of  it  yet,  and  did  not  foresee  that  it 
was  to  be  the  most  valuable  and  perfect  one  in  the 
garden  of  my  life. 

However,  the  Great  Gardener,  of  whom  we  know 
nothing,  took  care  of  the  tender  little  plant,  shielded 
it,  reared  it,  and  soon  proved  to  me  how  weatherproof 
and  strong  it  was,  in  spite  of  its  early  frailty.  Neither 
storm  nor  lightning  could  kill  it,  nay,  could  even 
bend  it ! 

One  evening  a  little  incident,  very  characteristic 
of  the  Russian  people,  happened. 

I  had  promised  to  drive  with  my  present  husband 
to  the  Casino  ball  for  the  nobility.     As  these  delights 

276 


A  RUSSIAN  DRIVE 

commenced  in  St.  Petersburg  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  I  decided  to  go  to  the  opera  first.  My  coach- 
man, who  had  been  with  me  for  a  long  time,  was  a 
good,  trustworthy  man,  so  I  permitted  my  footman, 
who  was  not  very  strong,  and  whom  I  needed  later 
for  the  ball,  to  remain  at  home  for  the  first  part  of 
the  evening. 

I  had  arranged  with  Serge  that  we  should  sup  at 
home  before  going  to  the  ball.  I  drove  off,  wrapped 
up  in  thick  furs  and  fur  rugs,  in  a  light  decollete 
ball-dress,  with  openwork  silk  stockings  and  satin 
shoes. 

It  will  soon  be  understood  why  I  mention  all  this. 
As  I  had  left  my  footman  at  home,  I  did  not  put  on 
the  usual  fur  boots  over  my  ball-slippers,  not  wishing 
to  take  them  off  alone,  so  I  pushed  my  feet  into  a 
fur  foot-warmer.  After  the  third  act,  I  told  the 
porter  to  call  my  carriage.  It  drove  up,  and  I  got  in, 
saying,  "  Home  ! "  The  porter  arranged  my  rugs  and 
foot-warmer,  and  off  we  went.  The  windows  were 
thickly  covered  with  frost,  and  I  took  no  notice  where 
the  carriage  was  going.  It  was  only  when,  according 
to  my  calculations,  we  should  have  arrived  at  home, 
that  I  breathed  on  the  glass  to  reconnoitre.  I  could 
distinguish  nothing,  and  as  the  horses  were  galloping, 
I  troubled  no  more. 

At  last  the  carriage  stood  still.  I  opened  the 
door — no  house  in  sight  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  only  snow,  ice,  and  snowflakes  descending 
softly,  ceaselessly. 

"  Iwan,"  I  called  out  in  horror.  "  Iwan  !  where 
are  we  ?  "     No  answer  1     Snow  !     Silence  I 

The  horses  started  again.  I  looked  out  of  the 
open  carriage -door,  in  spite  of  the  cold  which  froze 
my  breath ;  they  turned  once  or  twice  in  a  circle, 
then  stood  still,  their  long  tails  sweeping  the  snow ; 
and  without  a  sound  my  good  Iwan  fell  like  a  log 
from  his  box  into  the  snow. 

In  a  moment  everything  was  clear  to  me.      He 

277 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

was  hopelessly  drunk  and  I  was  quite  alone,  in  my 
satin  slippers  and  ball-dress,  in  27  degrees  of  cold,  in 
an  absolutely  unknown  region,  with  nothing  but  snow 
all  around.  Even  if  I  had  been  able  to  swing  myself 
upon  the  box  with  my  long  train  and  many  lace 
petticoats,  I  should  not  have  known  where  to  drive 
to,  as  I  could  hardly  see  anything  for  the  falling 
snow.     It  was  an  appalling  situation. 

I  tried  first  to  wake  Iwan  by  throwing  snow-balls 
at  his  face,  but  as  this  consisted  almost  exclusively  of 
hair  and  beard,  it  was  not  very  effective.  I  stood  in 
the  snow  with  my  skirts  over  my  arm,  shivering  with 
the  cold,  as  my  fur  only  protected  the  upper  part  of 
me.  Every  minute  the  horses  might  become  im- 
patient and  run  away.  What  then  ?  I  threw  a  fur 
rug  on  the  snow  in  front  of  the  horses'  heads,  and 
standing  on  it  I  held  them.  Then  with  all  my 
strength  I  called  out  for  help.  Minute  after  minute 
passed,  and  I  remained  in  my  terrifying  solitude. 
Again  and  again  I  called  out  At  last — at  last,  I 
saw  a  man  running  towards  me  I  "  Heaven  be 
praised  1 "  fell  from  my  lips.  I  gave  him  a  few 
roubles  at  once,  explained  the  situation  as  well  as  1 
could,  pointed  out  the  drunken  coachman,  and  asked 
him  if  he  could  drive  me  to  the  town. 

Yes,  he  could  !     Heaven  be  thanked  ! 

Then,  half  afraid  and  entirely  frozen,  I  got  into 
the  carriage,  and  entrusted  myself  with  beating 
heart  to  the  guidance  of  this  unknown  man.  In 
such  moments  of  terror  I  have  always  found  people 
better  than  one  imagines — better,  more  helpful,  more 
useful. 

My  young  muschik  drove  me  home  quite  safely, 
and  every  one  was  waiting  for  me  in  the  greatest 
excitement.  He  told  the  footman  where  he  had 
found  me — also  where  the  coachman  was  snoring, 
softly  embedded  in  the  snow,  and  whence,  after  my 
carriage  had  been  taken  to  the  stables,  he  was  fetched. 

He  slept  for  two  whole  days,  and  then  appeared 

278 


LIFE  IN  ST.  PETERSBURG 

before  me  bitterly  repenting  his  behaviour  and  im- 
ploring and  obtaining  forgiveness !  I  was  sure  he 
would  not  do  it  again,  and  I  was  not  mistaken.  No 
doubt  the  terrible  cold  and  his  careless  Russian 
temperament  had  tempted  him  to  drink. 

After  supper,  and  having  warmed  my  half-frozen 
extremities,  I  changed  my  dress,  and  we  drove  off  in 
another  carriage  to  the  smart  ball,  which  was  like 
most  others.  I  will  mention  another  original  episode 
of  my  St.  Petersburg  life. 

I  occupied  the  first  etage  in  a  very  nice  house, 
the  proprietor  of  which,  as  he  was  an  extremely  good 
cook,  provided  the  tenants  with  board.  I  therefore 
kept  no  servants  beyond  my  footman  and  my  maid — 
the  coachman  and  carriage  were  hired  monthly. 

Above  and  below  me  the  flats  were  occupied  by 
other  pensionnaires,  and  meals  were  served  either  in 
one's  own  private  room,  or  at  the  public  table.  I  had 
both,  according  to  my  fancy,  and  at  the  table  d'hote 
I  met  a  charming  Frenchman,  Baron  Meritens  by 
name.  This  acquaintance  soon  ripened  into  a  friend- 
ship, which  was  based  on  mutual  interests  and  lasted 
many  years. 

Outside  the  town,  upon  the  so-called  islands  by 
the  sea,  our  host  possessed  a  pretty  villa  called 
"  Datsche,"  where  I  passed  my  summer  months.  The 
Baron  and  other  Frenchmen  generally  came  out  to 
dinner,  and  we  all  amused  ourselves  very  much  during 
the  excellent  meals  by  witty  conversation. 

The  day  of  which  I  speak  was  in  the  early  summer, 
and  we  were  still  in  town.  I  sent  to  tell  our  host 
I  would  dine  at  table  d'hote  to-day,  when  he  entered 
my  room  with  a  mysterious  air.  "Ah,  Madame  la 
Princess,"  he  began ;  "  I  have  come  to  make  a  big 
request,  but  it  is  a  special  occasion." 

"  Well  ? "  I  asked  curiously. 

"Madame  la  Princess  appreciates  good  cooking, 
and  is  one  of  the  few  ladies  who  understands  it.  To- 
day I  am  giving  a  dinner  out  there,  in  the  garden  of 

279 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

my  Datsche,  to  which  I  have  invited  the  first  chefs  of 
St.  Petersburg,  the  Emperor's  chef,  the  chef  of  the  late 
Empress  Nicolaus,  who  now  has  the  Donon  Restau- 
rant, the  chef  of  the  Dusseaux  Restaurant — in  brief, 
eight  old  masters  of  the  highest  culinary  art  I  I 
have  composed  a  menu  worthy  of  these  masters,  and 
some  of  them  are  sending  a  few  dishes  which  they 
have  composed  themselves  for  us  to  judge  and  taste. 
It  will  be  a  unique  occasion.  I  thought  it  might 
interest  Madame  la  Princess  not  to  let  it  pass,  and 
we  should  all  feel  so  highly  honoured  if " 

I  accepted,  on  the  condition  that  Baron  Meritens 
and  Herr  von  Schewitsch  should  accompany  me. 
The  Baron,  to  whom  my  host  went  at  once,  ac- 
cepted immediately,  and  so  did  my  present  husband. 
At  two  o'clock  we  drove  out  to  the  islands. 

We  found  there  an  assemblage  of  gentlemen  who 
quite  cut  out  my  two  aristocratic  cavaliers :  all  of 
them  were  dressed  and  becurled  as  if  they  had  just 
stepped  out  of  the  frames  of  old  portraits  of 
Emperors.  They  were  all  old,  with  coiffures  a  Vaile 
de  pigeon,  broad  batiste  neckerchiefs  as  cravats  (the 
old  Emperors  indeed  wore  a  jabot),  and  one  almost 
expected  knee-breeches  and  buckled  shoes.  Their 
tone  and  behaviour  were  just  as  distinguished, 
measured,  and  full  of  dignity. 

My  companions  and  I  glanced  delightedly  at  each 
other.  I  always  liked  old  people  and  original  situa- 
tions, so  was  quite  in  my  element. 

The  table  was  tastefully  arranged  with  elaborate 
old  crystal,  silver  and  flowers,  and  a  row  of  ten  or 
more  glasses  before  each  plate  showed  that  the  cellar 
was  to  offer  just  as  exceptional  enjoyments  as  the 
kitchen. 

I  sat  next  the  oldest  of  them,  who  had  been  the 
chef  of  the  Empress  and  was  now  that  of  the  Donon 
house.  Opposite  sat  my  two  friends.  Our  host 
hardly  sat  down  at  all,  as  he  had  too  much  to  do 
with  the  secrets  of  his  menu  and  his  wine  list. 

280 


A  MEMORABLE  DINNER 

What  a  menu  !  Unfortunately  I  did  not  keep  it ; 
but  as  the  dishes  were  evolved  from  the  spontaneous 
genius  of  their  creators,  no  one  could  have  hoped  to 
copy  them  in  anything  like  their  pristine  perfection. 

Of  course,  nothing  was  eaten  in  the  usual  way  : 
each  mouthful  was  subjected  to  a  rigorous  test,  and 
was  allowed  to  melt  on  the  tongue,  accompanied 
by  a  polite  though  severe  criticism.  The  most 
refined  petits  plats  were  greeted  with  delight,  and 
thoroughly  enjoyed.  As  a  matter  of  course,  truffles, 
mushrooms,  asparagus,  and  green  estragon  played  a 
great  role  in  the  flavouring  of  these  delicate  little 
dishes.  There  was  pur£e  of  asparagus,  and  mousse 
a  la  Perigord,  and  white  chickens'  livers !  Even 
the  wisest  of  these  judges  could  not  guess  what  gave 
the  extraordinary  flavour  to  the  tender,  delicate 
things  one  could  hardly  term  "livers  "  1 

At  last  the  secret  came  out.  They  had  been 
soaked  in  champagne,  flavoured  with  estragon,  made 
up  in  moulds,  and  were  served  now  as  these  exquisitely 
refined  snow-white  foies  de  poulardes. 

Many  other  equally  delicious  dishes  followed  ; 
one  would  have  been  absolutely  bewildered  and 
fatigued  if  the  conversation  of  these  old  "princes 
of  the  kitchen  "  had  not  proved  so  amusing  and  in- 
structive. 

For  instance,  I  said  I  did  not  consider  karviol 
(cauliflower)  a  delicate  vegetable.  At  this,  my  old 
neighbour  (the  ex-Empress's  chef)  tapped  his  long, 
white,  carefully  tended  finger-tips  together,  in  sign 
of  applause.  "Bravo!  Bravo  1  This  shows  a  most 
cultivated  and  correct  taste.  Cauliflower  is  a  vege- 
table which  can  only  be  eaten  by  a  connoisseur  after 
the  most  careful  preparation.  If  laid  in  water,  it 
always  keeps  its  unpleasant  taste ;  I  always  soak  it 

in  milk  for  some  hours,  as  then "  and  here  followed 

a  most  complicated  treatment,  which  ended  with, 
"  Only,  no  white  sauce  to  it,  but  (and  this  is  the 
difficulty  1)  which  of  all  you  gentlemen  can  prepare 

281 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

a  really  perfect  beurre  (noisette  hazel-nut  butter)  ? 
All  the  chefs  and  cooks  I  ever  had  to  deal  with 
could  never  understand  it.  Beurre  noisette  must  be 
felt,  it  cannot  be  learnt,  and,  without  it,  cauliflower 
is  a  horror !  This  was  also  the  opinion  of  my  illus- 
trious mistress  the  Empress — and  she  understood." 

Among  other  things  we  had  asparagus  with  all 
kinds  of  wonderful  sauces.  The  old  man  chuckled 
with  delight  and  said,  turning  to  his  colleagues, 
"Do  any  of  you  know  how  to  prepare  a  good 
asparagus  bouillon  ?  I  am  sure  you  don't !  I  was 
obliged  to  serve  it  daily  at  her  late  Majesty's  table, 
and  when  the  great  lady  was  dead,  her  son,  our  most 
gracious  Emperor  Alexander  II.,  summoned  me  to 
his  presence,  kissed  me  on  the  forehead — here  (he 
pointed  with  his  long  first  finger  to  a  spot  between 
his  white  ailes  de  pigeon),  thanked  me,  and  said, 
'  Without  your  asparagus  bouillon,  my  dear  chef, 
my  beloved  mother  would  never  have  been  able  to 
live  so  long ! '  That  was  the  greatest  moment  of 
my  life.     A  moment  any  chef  might  be  proud  of ! " 

This  extraordinary  meal  lasted  until  six  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  and  we  found  it  more  amusing  than 
many  a  society  dinner.  It  resulted  in  most  delightful 
consequences  for  me.  From  that  day,  whenever  I 
entered  one  of  the  great  Petersburg  restaurants  with 
friends,  or  with  my  present  husband,  the  waiters  flew 
at  once  to  the  "  master  " — my  old  kitchen  "  prince  " — 
and  they  could  not  do  enough  for  me. 

The  old  man  had  promised  me  at  the  cooks'  dinner 
to  prepare  with  his  own  hands  des  peches  a  la 
Bourdaloue,  as  well  as  perdreaux  truffes  sautes  en 
casserole,  and  these,  as  well  as  other  rare  delicacies, 
were  placed  on  the  table  before  me  by  the  old  man 
himself,  in  silver  casseroles. 

When  I  dined  there  for  the  last  time  before  my 
departure  from  Petersburg,  the  old  master  prepared 
a  farewell  supper  worthy  of  a  Lucullus,  and  our 
parting  was  almost  tragic. 

282 


BELGRADE 

One  more  episode  of  this  period. 

During  the  autumn  of  '75  certain  engagements 
compelled  me  to  go  to  Belgrade.  At  that  time  the 
Servian  capital  was  a  wild  little  town  consisting 
chiefly  of  wooden  huts,  and  a  few  good  stone  buildings. 
The  streets  were  miserably  paved,  and  dirty.  My 
windows  looked  on  the  market-place,  which  was  the 
rendezvous  of  all  the  gentlemen.  They  looked  most 
picturesque  in  their  national  costume,  and  I  noticed 
the  same  here  as  in  Corfu,  that  the  male  sex  of  these 
races  is  the  handsomer.  Maybe  the  women  age  so 
quickly  that  one  hardly  sees  them  during  the  short 
time  their  beauty  lasts.  I  wondered  why  this  was 
not  the  case  in  Roumania,  where  the  women  are 
generally  handsomer  than  the  men. 

Yet  it  was  here  in  Belgrade  that  I  witnessed  the 
entrance  of  personified  beauty  in  the  person  of  Queen 
Natalie.  Servia  was  still  a  principality,  and  Prince 
Milan  and  his  young  wife  were  both  ideally  handsome 
beings.  I  can  see  them  now,  so  young,  tall  and 
slender,  with  such  noble  features  and  form — and,  to 
all  appearances,  loving  each  other  so  sincerely !  I 
seem  to  hear,  as  so  often  is  the  case  in  human  love 
and  marriage,  "  They  went  forth  like  gods,  and  how 
did  they  return  ? "  Everything  that  looked  so  bright 
that  autumn,  in  the  golden  Southern  sunshine,  ended, 
— how  ?  In  humiliation  and  sorrow,  in  blood  and 
misery  1 

At  that  time,  however,  all  was  brightness,  and 
this  marriage  had  even  its  comic  side. 

None  of  the  Court  officials  seemed  to  know  how 
to  place  the  guests  at  dinner  according  to  their  rank. 
A  capital  idea  struck  one  of  them,  viz.  to  place  them 
alphabetically  !  Naturally  the  most  appalling  contre- 
temps resulted.  The  Austrian  Consul-General,  whose 
name  began  with  a  W,  was  placed  after  a  small 
official  whose  initial  was  A  !  The  Russian  Prince  R. 
sat  far  below  a  nobody  with  an  initial  D. 

All  the  foreign  diplomats  laughed  heartily  after- 

283 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

wards,  except  a  few,  who  considered  they  ought  to 
feel  offended  in  the  name  of  the  country  they 
represented  1 

Another  thing  struck  me  at  the  time — it  was 
the  difference  in  the  ideas  of  family  morality  which 
existed  in  the  two  neighbouring  countries  of  Servia 
and  Roumania.  In  Wallachia  the  most  exaggerated 
Parisian  manners  and  customs  were  the  order  of  the 
day  ;  every  man  had  a  love-affair  with  his  neighbour's 
wife,  and  vice  versa,  this  being  not  only  tolerated, 
but  sanctioned  by  society,  although  the  influence  of 
beautiful  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  revered  Carmen  Sylva, 
has  done  much  to  modify  this.  One  saw  nothing  of  this 
in  Belgrade.  Here,  although  not  exactly  European, 
quite  respectable  family  life  reigned.  I,  at  least, 
heard  no  chronique  scandaleuse  during  my  six  weeks' 
stay  there.  Such  things  were  the  privilege  of  the 
royal  dynasty,  the  couple  who  then  adored  each 
other — Milan  and  Natalie — and  later  on,  Alexander 
and  Draga. 

I  returned  to  Petersburg  and  gave  myself  up 
entirely  to  my  great  love. 

A  strange  incident  occurred  in  connection  with 
this  journey  to  Belgrade,  and  had  very  Russian 
consequences  for  me. 

My  present  husband  came  to  meet  me  in  Prague. 
We  travelled  together  as  far  as  Berlin,  where  we 
remained  a  short  time  in  the  Hotel  de  Russie.  His 
duties  called  him  to  Petersburg  a  few  days  before  me. 

A  long  time  after  I  had  settled  down  again  on 
the  borders  of  the  Neva,  and  winter  had  returned,  a 
visitor  asked  me  one  day,  "  What  has  the  secret 
police  to  do  with  you  ?  * 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  I  replied,  astonished. 

"  Because  a  policeman  has  just  been  inquiring  of 
your  dwornik  (sort  of  butler)  who  visits  you,  and 
what  letters  you  receive  !" 

I  was  indignant,  turned  to  my  friend  Mesentzow, 
who    merely    said,     "Nonsense,    the    gentleman    is 

284 


MYSTERIOUS  "WALTER" 

mistaken.     Inquiries  are  always  made  now  and  then 
about  foreigners." 

I  soon  forgot  the  incident,  as  I  heard  nothing 
further. 

The  following  spring  I  went  on  a  long  theatrical 
tour  to  Berlin.  Sergei  y  Egorowitsch,  my  young 
friend,  telegraphed  to  me  that  he  would  come  and 
visit  me  at  Easter.  I  met  him  at  the  station  in  a 
carriage,  and  we  drove  gaily  to  the  Hotel  de  Rome 
where  I  lived. 

Serge's  room  was  a  good  distance  from  mine,  but 
on  the  same  etage.  I  accompanied  him  there,  and 
we  forgot  the  time  in  our  animated  conversation. 
After  two  hours  it  occurred  to  me  to  return  to  my 
own  rooms,  to  give  him  time  to  bathe,  etc. 

I  went  down  the  long  corridor,  and  was  astonished 
to  find  a  policeman  and  several  other  men  there. 
This  unusual  sight  in  a  first-class  Berlin  hotel  caused 
me  to  stand  still  and  look  after  them.  What  can 
describe  my  surprise  when  I  saw  them  stop  before 
Serge's  room  !  The  men  entered,  and  the  policeman 
remained  outside. 

I  flew  there;  the  policeman  let  me  pass,  and  I 
entered  the  room  just  as  one  of  the  men  put  his  hand 
on  Serge's  shoulder  and  said,  "  You  are  arrested."  I 
saw  Serge  push  his  arm  away,  and  heard  him  call 
out  indignantly,  "  Beware,  if  you  touch  me  I  " 

"What  on  earth  is  the  matter?"  I  called  out; 
then  one  of  the  men  asked  me  excitedly,  "  That  is 
Walter,  is  it  not  ? " 

"Who  is  Walter? "  I  said,  half  amused,  half  curious. 
I  was  calmed  oil  hearing  the  name,  for  I  was  sure 
the  scene  could  have  no  personal  reference  to  him. 

"You  know  very  well  who  Walter  is,  madam," 
was  the  irritable  answer.  "He  ran  away  last 
November  with  800,000  roubles,  and  you  know  it 
very  well ! " 

I  was  really  laughing  now,  and  replied,  "No, 
indeed,  I  know  nothing  about  it  at  all." 

285 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

Here  Serge  interrupted  them,  and  said  with 
decision,  "Will  you  accompany  me  to  the  Russian 
Embassy,  where  I  can  get  myself  identified  ? " 

At  this  they  grew  more  civil  and  said,  "Yes, 
certainly,  if  that  is  possible."  The  policeman  was 
told  to  walk  a  good  distance  behind  them,  and  I  saw 
them  depart  without  the  slightest  apprehension,  for  I 
knew  the  Ambassador  was  a  friend  of  the  Schewitsch 
family,  and  Count  B.  Secretary  of  the  Embassy,  a 
personal  friend  of  Serge's,  so  of  course  the  misunder- 
standing would  be  cleared  up  at  once.  However,  for 
greater  safety,  I  sent  a  messenger  to  my  friend  Baron 
von  K.,  who  had  left  the  navy  long  since,  and  was 
now  first  Secretary  of  the  Embassy,  and  an  important 
person.     Half  an  hour  later  he  came  to  see  me. 

I  must  now  relate  what  was  at  the  bottom  of  the 
whole  story.  As  already  stated,  I  had  fetched  Serge 
at  the  station.  We  had  both  lived  the  previous 
autumn  at  the  Hotel  de  Russie,  and  the  day  we  had 
left  the  hotel  porter  had  received  a  photograph  of  the 
Russian  "  Walter,"  together  with  a  warrant  for  his 
arrest,  for  which  a  reward  of  a  hundred  pounds  was 
offered. 

The  resemblance  to  Serge  von  Schewitsch  was 
most  striking.  The  clever  porter  then  thought  to 
himself,  "  We  shall  soon  catch  him.  He  was  staying 
here  for  several  days,  and  knows  the  Frau  von 
Racowitza  very  well."  He  went  to  the  police  station 
and  notified  this,  hence  the  surveillance  of  me  and 
my  correspondence.  "  Walter  "  was  not  discovered, 
and  in  Russia  none  dreamt  of  mistaking  him  for  the 
well-known  Schewitsch.  When,  however,  the  same 
porter  saw  us  together  again  at  the  station,  he  rushed 
at  once  to  the  police  with  the  announcement, 
"  Now  ■  Walter '  has  fallen  into  the  trap  !  Frau  von 
Racowitza  fetched  him  herself  from  the  station,  and 
they  are  both  staying  at  the  Hotel  de  Rome,"  where 
the  arrival  of  the  police  was  the  result  of  this  de- 
nunciation.    We  heard  all  this  later. 

286 


MYSTERIOUS  -WALTER" 

Baron  K.,  to  whom  I  now  told  my  story,  said, 
"The  Ambassador  and  Count  B.  left  early  this 
morning  for  the  Easter  holidays,  but  that  won't 
matter.  Schewitsch  has  got  his  passport,  and  the 
affair  will  be  arranged  at  once." 

I  now  became  very  uneasy.  "  No,  my  friend,  he 
hasn't  a  passport,  otherwise " 

"  But  that  is  impossible  !  How  did  he  cross  the 
border  ?  How  did  he  get  leave  ?  He  is  in  the 
Senate,  in  the  State  service  ! " 

I  laughed,  saying,  "  H  y  a  des  accommodements 
avec  le  bon  Dieu  !  He  will  not  be  here  long,  only  just 
over  Easter,  therefore  it  was  not  necessary  to  get 
leave,  and " 

"  Yes,  but  the  frontier  ?  How  did  he  manage 
to  cross  without  a  passport?"  repeated  the  Baron, 
putting  on  his  official  air. 

"  Oh,  don't  worry  me,  my  dear  friend  !  He  had 
a  friend  on  the  frontier." 

"  Aha  ! "  he  said,  smiling  amiably.  "  You  tell  me 
who  this  friend  is,  and  I  will  get  your  Serge  out  of 
this  mess." 

"You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  I  will  not  do 
this,"  I  replied  indignantly. 

"  Very  well,  then,  I  can't  help  you.  We  cannot 
have  such  lax  people  on  the  frontier." 

"Then  the  matter  must  take  its  course.  I  will 
not  mention  the  friend's  name  ! " 

We  quarrelled  for  a  time  over  this,  but  when  the 
Baron  saw  he  could  not  get  the  name  out  of  me,  his 
old  friendship  prevailed,  and  he  went  over  to  the 
Embassy  to  arrange  the  affair. 

It  was  high  time  he  got  there,  for  the  following 
scene  had  taken  place.  As  the  Ambassador  and 
Count  B.  were  not  there,  Serge  had  asked  for  Baron 
K.,  and  as  he  also  was  absent  he  said,  "  Who  is  here 
then  ? " 

"  Only  Baron  B." 

This  was  the  only  member  of  the  Embassy  who 

287 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

was  unknown  to  Serge,  but  he  suddenly  remembered 
that  this  was  a  close  friend  of  his  brother  in  Rome, 
and  as  they  were  very  much  alike,  although  his 
brother  was  nine  years  older  than  he,  he  built  his 
hopes  on  this.  Accompanied  by  the  secret  criminal 
police  officer,  he  was  shown  in,  and  began  with  the 
words,  "  Baron  B.,  who  am  I  ? " 

The  latter  looked  at  him  in  amazement,  then  said, 
"  I  don't  know  you  personally,  but  judging  from  your 
likeness  to  Dimitri  Schewitsch,  I  should  imagine  you 
were  a  Schewitsch." 

"  Do  you  hear  ? "  said  Serge  triumphantly  to  his 
persecutor  ;  but  the  latter  said  quietly,  "  May  I  speak 
to  you  alone  a  moment,  Baron  ?  " 

The  two  disappeared  into  the  ante-room,  and  when 
they  came  out  Baron  B.  was  cool  in  his  manner,  and 
said,  "  Well,  I  hardly  know  you  personally,  and  the 
photograph  of  this  Mr.  Walter " 

At  that  moment  Baron  K.  appeared  and  saved  the 
situation.  In  spite  of  his  explanation,  the  policeman 
cast  several  mistrustful  glances  at  his  criminal.  How- 
ever, after  he  had  been  convinced  of  his  mistake,  he 
made  what  amends  he  could  by  showing  the  picture 
of  the  desired  "  Walter."  My  husband  was  so  taken 
aback  at  the  resemblance,  that  he  has  said  to  me  even 
lately,  "  If  I  had  not  known  that  I  was  not  Walter,  I 
should  really  have  believed  I  was,  when  I  saw  that 
photograph."     The  whole  business  ended  in  a  laugh. 

Now  that  the  situation  was  clear,  I  was  apologised 
to  verbally  and  in  writing  for  the  police  surveillance. 
The  mistake  on  the  part  of  the  police  was  of  the 
greatest  advantage  to  the  real  Walter,  who  was  only 
discovered  at  his  death.  He  must  have  been  a  very 
genial  creature,  for  he  had  arranged  his  flight  from  the 
Moscow  bank  in  the  following  manner. 

Being  a  member  of  the  bank,  he  stole  800,000 
roubles,  then  invited  all  the  directors  to  a  splendid 
farewell  supper,  as  he  intended  going  abroad.  They 
all  came,  and  all  accompanied  him  to  the  station. 

288 


MYSTERIOUS  "WALTER" 

He  was  off.  As  he  enjoyed  the  unlimited  confidence 
of  them  all,  his  theft  was  only  discovered  some  weeks 
later,  then  we  protected  him ;  and  four  years  later  he 
was  found  in  Naples  in  the  direst  poverty  and  ill- 
health.  He  had  gambled  the  money  away  at  Monte 
Carlo ! 

There  was  an  amusing  little  sequel  in  Berlin  to  the 
scene  in  the  Embassy.  Serge  was  sitting  next  day  in 
the  Unter  den  Linden  at  Kranzlers',  and  was  drinking 
his  coffee  outside,  when  he  noticed  a  man  looking 
very  much  like  a  detective  walking  up  and  down,  and 
looking  very  sharply  at  him.  He  got  up,  paid,  and 
went  straight  up  to  the  man,  nodded  to  him,  and  said, 
"  Yes,  yes  !     You  are  quite  right !     I  am  ■  Walter '  1 " 

The  man,  taken  aback,  stammered,  "Yes,  but 
how  ? " 

"  It's  all  right,"  continued  Serge.  "  I'll  go  with 
you  to  the  police  station.     I'm  tired  of  it  all." 

The  poor  policeman,  quite  surprised,  took  him  to 
the  Molkenmarkt,  and  as  soon  as  the  door  opened,  the 
police  official  of  the  previous  day  recognised  Serge  at 
once,  and  jumped  up,  saying  anxiously  to  the  sub- 
ordinate, "  For  goodness'  sake,  let  the  gentleman  go  ! 
That  isn't  Walter.  I've  had  enough  unpleasantness 
about  him." 

The  most  comical  result  of  this  narrative  was  this, 
that  Serge  von  Schewitsch  had  to  get  a  certificate 
saying  he  was  not  Walter,  because,  no  matter  what 
precautions  the  police  might  take,  the  same  mistake 
could  happen  elsewhere,  as  the  police  had  telegraphed 
for  "Walter"  all  over  the  world.  He  carried  this 
absurd  paper  about  with  him  for  several  years,  and  we 
and  our  friends  have  often  laughed  over  it. 

I  might  relate  many  more  stories  of  my  stay  in 
the  kingdom  of  the  Tsar,  but  none  that  would  be  of 
any  particular  interest  My  life  there  was  more  of 
an  everyday  kind,  varied  sometimes  by  journeys  to 
the  picturesque  Baltic  Sea  provinces  and  Finland,  and 
to  Revel,  with  its  delightful  seashore. 

289  u 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

I  could  not  stand  the  damp  climate  of  St.  Peters- 
burg. The  proud  Imperial  city,  as  every  one  knows, 
is  built  on  ground  reclaimed  from  marsh  land,  and  its 
emanations  give  fever  and  all  sorts  of  illnesses  to 
people  unaccustomed  to  the  air,  so  I  decided  to  go  to 
Paris  with  a  woman  friend.  Not  only  did  my  health 
cause  me  to  make  this  decision,  which  was  no  easy 
one,  but  I  was  going  through  a  time  of  inward 
struggle  that  made  this  last  sojourn  in  St  Petersburg 
one  of  the  most  difficult  and  responsible  of  my  life. 

I  became  daily  more  and  more  convinced  that  the 
feeling  between  me  and  my  friend  Serge  must  not  be 
confounded  with  those  which  during  so  many  years 
had  played  greater  or  lesser  parts  in  my  existence. 

We  had  many  a  deep  and  serious  talk  on  the 
subject  together,  and  I  also  discussed  it  with  friends, 
but  we  saw  no  possible  solution  for  the  passion  that 
ruled  us  both. 

I  realised  that  our  only  salvation  lay  in  parting. 
I  knew  my  own  nature,  and  parting  had  always  served 
to  cool  any  feeling  I  may  have  had.  I  judged  my 
friend's  character  by  that  of  most  men  ;  his  love  would 
pass,  he  would  turn  to  some  one  else,  and  a  nice  true 
friendship  would  remain  to  both  of  us.  Therefore 
parting  was  best  for  him  also. 

During  that  sad  time  I  passed  my  sleepless  nights 
in  weeping,  in  struggling,  and  trying  to  persuade 
myself.  At  last,  as  we  then  thought,  reason  was 
victorious.     I  left  St.  Petersburg,  and  I  went  to  Paris 

290 


DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS 

again,  a  paradise  for  most  women,  but  a  city  which  was 
never  very  sympathetic  to  me.  I  arrived  there  feeling 
very  sad.  The  Imperial  days  were  dead  and  gone,  and 
with  them  most  of  my  friends.  Gone  also  were  the 
glories  of  the  beautiful  Empress  and  her  luxurious 
Court.  All  these  changes  fitted  in  well  with  my 
feelings. 

I  felt  the  parting  from  Serge  as  a  deep  sorrow, 
and  I  soon  saw  that  nothing  could  cure  me  of  it 
My  friends  tried  in  the  most  good-natured  way  to 
make  the  time  pass  pleasantly,  but  it  crept  along  so 
very  slowly. 

At  that  time,  the  late  Albert  Wolff,  then  critic 
of  the  Figaro — the  most  "  Parisian  of  the  Parisians  " 
as  he  was  called,  although  a  German — sat  with  me  for 
hours  chatting  over  his  brilliant  feuilletons,  but  I  had 
no  heart  for  anything.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life 
my  whole  being  was  nothing  but  longing. 

Seeing  that  at  the  other  end  of  the  electric 
threads  which  bound  our  souls  the  same  feelings 
prevailed,  it  was  not  surprising  that  our  parting 
ended  a  few  months  after  my  arrival,  and  that  my 
young  friend  appeared  in  Paris. 

How  happy  I  was  1 

When  I  said  to  him,  "What  next?"  and  he 
replied,  "  We  will  go  to  America,"  I  was  perhaps  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life  absolutely  and  entirely  happy. 

After  a  few  delightful  days  in  Paris  we  went  to 
London.  I  was  charmed  with  the  mighty  city  on 
the  Thames,  and  found  it  just  as  sympathetic  as  I 
had  found  Paris  the  reverse. 

We  were  lucky  in  the  weather,  and  revelled  in 
the  splendid  museums,  galleries,  and  institutions  of 
that  most  free  of  all  monarchical  countries.  We 
could  not  stay  long  then,  and  went  to  Liverpool  to 
catch  the  Cunard  steamer,  which,  after  a  stormy 
crossing,  landed  us  on  March  1, 1877,  at  New  York. 

Two  free  and  happy  people ! 

291 


PART   VII 

America — Arrival  and  first  impressions — Offers  for  the  stage 
— Some  existence  in  New  York — New  friends  ;  Joseph 
Keppler,  Udo  Brachvogel,  and  others — Journey  to  San 
Francisco — Meeting  with  Professor  Carl  Semper — San 
Francisco — The  Chinese  town — A  night  of  serpents — 
Farewell  to  California — Towards  the  East. 


293 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

Yes   indeed,  two   free  and  happy  people  landed  in 
New  York  on  that  glorious  March  morning ! 

Behind  us  lay  all  conventions,  all  European  social 
bonds.  Before  us  lay  life  and  all  its  possibilities ! 
Neither  of  us  knew  a  living  soul  in  all  this  vast 
country.     We  were  absolutely  alone ! 

This  was  happiness. 

•  •  •  •  • 

It  was  6  a.m.  when  we  hurried  on  deck  to  greet 
our  new  home.  Purple  sunrise  bathed  the  glorious 
bay  in  golden  glowing  colours,  and  yet  the  faint 
outline  of  the  young  moon  was  still  visible  in  the  sky. 
It  was  an  entrancing  sight,  and  all  the  Americans 
on  board  declared  that  it  was  only  under  the  stars 
and  stripes  that  there  were  such  skies  and  such 
sunrises  and  sunsets. 

I  was  reminded  of  an  old  superstition  of  the 
people  :  "  If  one  sees  sun  and  moon  together  in  the 
heavens,  then  happiness  is  near." 

We  then  disembarked.  Our  first  impressions 
were  "real"  American. 

I  had  fourteen  trunks,  containing  long  trains  and 
theatre  costumes.  Whilst  Serge  and  my  maid,  whom 
I  had  brought  with  me  to  New  York,  were  preparing 
to  open  our  boxes  for  the  Customs,  a  voice  said  to 
them  softly,  "  If  you  can  pay  me  ten  dollars,  I  will 
manage  to  get  your  things  through  unopened."  He 
was  bargained  down  to  five  dollars,  and  the  affair 
was  arranged. 

295 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

In  the  meantime,  I  sat  on  one  of  the  larger  boxes 
awaiting  results,  when  a  long  lean  Yankee  asked  me 
whether  I  was  here  for  the  first  time,  and  if  I  knew 
that  a  new  President  was  elected  to-day. 

His  name  was  Hayes,  and  it  was  very  important 
to  remember  that  name  for  the  next  four  years. 
Hayes,  then  !  I  laughed,  and  was  delighted  to  meet 
such  a  "  real "  one.  Whilst  we  were  driving  to  our 
hotel  in  the  Fifth  Avenue,  I  noticed  for  the  first  time 
a  peculiarity  that  never  ceased  to  strike  us  most 
unpleasantly,  and  this  was  that  dead  cats  and  dogs 
lay  about  in  front  of  the  big  palatial  buildings,  and 
everywhere,  before  each  house,  stood  ashbins,  or 
sometimes  only  large  or  small  open  boxes.  The 
desolate  condition  of  the  streets  struck  us  (I  fear 
it  has  not  changed  much  at  the  present  time). 
Presidents  might  come  and  go,  this  or  that  political 
party  rise  or  fall — the  dirt  remained. 

We  were  soon  to  make  another  disagreeable 
discovery.  After  staying  a  short  time  in  the  hotel, 
we  went  to  a  boarding-house,  where  the  proprietor 
was  at  the  same  time  editor  of  the  largest  theatrical 
newspaper.  We  liked  him  very  much,  but  liked  his 
wife  less,  and  put  down  her  rather  familiar  manner 
as  being  "real  American."  We  thought  fifty  dollars 
a  week  for  board  and  lodging,  without  light  and 
firing,  was  cheap,  for  we  had  two  large  and  one  small 
room  on  one  etage,  and  one  upstairs  for  the  maid. 
We  heard  afterwards  that  it  was  an  abnormal  price, 
and  after  that  we  lived  for  half  that  sum.  At  the 
time  we  did  not  know  this,  and  as  the  food  was  good 
we  remained. 

Then  came  the  following  incident  I  was  to  act 
for  a  charity,  and  wanted  one  of  my  best  dresses. 
Everything  was  looked  through,  but  the  dress, 
trimmed  with  costly  real  lace,  had  vanished. 

Two  days  later  I  had  given  my  maid  permission 
to  go  out ;  Serge  was  at  the  publishing  offices  of  the 
great   New  York   paper  The  World,  where  he   had 

296 


LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK 

found  work,  and  I  went  out  to  be  photographed  with 
my  dogs,  a  giant  Newfoundland  and  a  small  terrier, 
both  of  which  were  splendid  watch-dogs. 

On  my  return  home  an  hour  later,  I  found  Serge 
in  the  doorway.  We  went  to  our  rooms  together, 
and  I  saw  at  the  first  glance  that  my  big  iron  jewel- 
case  had  been  broken  open,  and  the  most  valuable 
diamonds  stolen.     The  empty  cases  alone  gaped  at  me. 

We  immediately  notified  the  theft  to  the  police, 
but  we  never  recovered  anything.  Probably  the 
police  were  in  collusion  with  the  thieves.  I  never 
found  out  whether  they  had  been  stolen  by  the 
people  in  the  house.  Anyhow,  we  left  this  hospitable 
roof,  and  preferred  to  seek  shelter  under  a  less  ex- 
pensive one. 

Immediately  on  our  arrival,  Serge  had  found 
employment  on  the  staff  of  the  aforementioned  paper, 
by  reason  of  his  journalistic  talents.  He  writes 
equally  well  in  English,  Russian,  German,  and  French, 
and  was  highly  appreciated  at  the  time  of  the  Russo- 
Turkish  war,  being  an  expert,  perhaps  the  only  one 
they  had,  in  Russian  affairs. 

After  the  theatrical  performance  I  have  alluded  to, 
in  which  I  played  one  of  my  favourite  roles,  that  of 
Clotilde  in  Sardou's  Fernande,  I  received  offers  from 
various  quarters  of  the  States.  I  had  not  intended 
including  these  in  my  plans,  but  nevertheless  accepted 
very  lucrative  engagements  for  San  Francisco,  Mil- 
waukee, and  St.  Louis,  and  went  there  late  in  the 
autumn. 

From  the  first  we  made  interesting  acquaintances 
in  the  German  Colony  of  New  York  ;  many  of  them 
became  intimate  friends  later,  and  helped  to  make 
our  often  difficult  time  in  America  more  agreeable 
and  homelike. 

First  and  foremost  was  the  genial  artist  Joseph 
Keppler,  and  his  dear  little  wife.  He  was  an  Austrian, 
and  had  begun  life  in  an  adventurous  and  poverty- 
stricken   way.     His   father,  a   pastry-cook,   had   run 

297 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOW1TZA 

away  from  his  mother,  leaving  her  in  absolute  want 
with  a  family  of  little  children,  but  even  as  a  boy 
"  Beppi "  was  an  energetic  and  jolly  lad.  He 
wandered  to  Tyrol  and  Italy,  and  earned  his  food 
and  wherewithal  to  travel  by  going  into  the  farmers' 
houses  and  offering  to  paint  the  inmates  in  return 
for  board  and  lodging.  He  declared  that  he  had 
managed  splendidly,  and  had  had  delightful  times. 
I  forget  how  it  was  he  had  come  to  America ; 
anyhow,  he  was  there,  and  after  a  short  time  had 
become  famous  as  a  clever  artist. 

Then  he  married  his  beautiful  Pauline — a  niece  of 
the  poet  Pfav.  When  we  first  knew  them  and  their 
hospitable  house,  Joseph  Keppler,  in  conjunction 
with  the  rich  printer  Schwarzmann,  had  just  founded 
the  first  German  comic  paper  Puck.  They  had 
not  the  faintest  idea,  then,  of  the  enormous  fortune 
they  would  make  out  of  this.  They  lived  very 
comfortably  and  modestly  with  their  children  in  a 
tiny  house,  but  the  evenings  we  often  spent  there 
with  Udo  Brachvogel  and  Leopold  Schenk  belong 
to  the  most  intellectually  charming  hours  of  all  my 
New  York  stay. 

Udo  Brachvogel,  editor  of  one  of  the  first  German 
newspapers  there,  the  BeUetristisctien  Journal,  was 
a  delightful  companion,  as  was  also  Leopold  Schenk, 
the  literary  editor  of  Puck. 

A  year  later  Puck  had  that  lightning  success 
which  is  only  possible  in  America,  so  that  the 
proprietors  of  it  with  one  stroke,  as  in  a  fairy  tale, 
awakened  in  fairy  castles.  I  remember  with  emotion 
how,  when  I  made  my  first  visit  to  the  lovely  Pauline 
in  her  magnificent  castle  high  up  on  the  Hudson, 
she  said  to  me,  "  Oh,  Goldcfie  "  (she  called  me  this  in 
her  strong  Swabian  dialect),  "  I  often  think  all  this 
glory  is  a  dream ;  it  can't  be  true.  I  shall  wake  up 
one  morning  and  find  myself  in  my  little  house." 
But  it  was  golden  reality  which,  I  believe,  led  later 
on  to  several  millions. 

298 


JOSEPH  KEPPLER 

About  this  time  Joseph  Kepplers  name  was  men- 
tioned so  often  in  the  States,  that  he  received  the 
following  letter  from  the  Far  West : — 

Honoured  Sir — If  you  were  born  in  Vienna,  and  are  the 
son  of  the  pastry-cook  Keppler  who  left  his  wife  and  children  in 
18 —  because  he  could  not  keep  them,  then  you  are  my  dear 
son  Beppi,  and  I  will  soon  call  and  see  you,  as  I  am  thus — Your 
loving  father,  Keppler. 

It  may  well  be  understood  how  this  original 
letter  amused  the  original  artist,  and  how  quickly  he 
placed  himself  in  communication  with  the  author  of 
his  being,  in  order  to  allow  him  to  participate  in  his 
quickly  acquired  wealth. 

In  that  remarkable  land  one  only  needs  to  strike 
the  right  note  for  money-making,  and  it  will  then 
pour  in  with  astounding  rapidity. 

But  not  everybody  strikes  the  right  note;  and 
then  he  is  ruined  just  as  quickly,  or  joins  the  ranks 
of  the  millions  who  are  striving,  straining,  and  work- 
ing in  vain !  The  worst  fate  of  all  often  awaits  the 
people  of  gentle  birth  who  go  over  there  with  the 
highest  hopes.  It  is  the  most  difficult  of  all  for  them, 
unless  they  arrive  with  a  very  big  title  and  good 
recommendations,  which  may  perhaps  lead  to  a  rich 
marriage.  I  do  not  speak  of  these  "  seekers  of  luck," 
but  of  poor  young  people,  with  whom  something  has 
gone  wrong  at  home,  and  who  are  mostly  of  good 
education,  which  they  find  of  no  use  to  them. 

How  many  such  existences  we  saw  go  to  pieces 
over  there !  I  remember  an  offshoot  of  one  of  the 
oldest  and  most  aristocratic  Austrian  families  who 
was  thankful  to  accept  the  post  of  night-watchman 
in  one  of  the  huge  business  houses  in  New  York ! 

Those  who  understand  horses  are  somewhat  better 
off;  well-set-up  coachmen  are  always  in  demand.  A 
young  gentleman  told  me  once  how  ashamed  he  felt 
on  receiving  his  first  tip.  He  said  to  himself,  "  Down 
with  yourself,  pride  1 

Most  of  them  become  waiters,  and  are  not  so 

299 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

badly  off  at  that.  I  particularly  call  to  mind  two  of 
these  "  shipwrecked  ones,"  who — to  a  certain  extent 
— had  risen  again. 

One  evening  I  was  sitting  with  a  friend  from 
Paris  in  my  little  drawing-room  at  the  Park  Hotel 
in  the  German  suburb  of  New  York,  Hoboken.  We 
were  talking  French,  when  there  was  a  knock  at  the 
door  (I  must  remark  that  I  am  anticipating  a  few 
years  in  the  narrative).  I  called  out,  "  Come  in."  A 
well-built  young  man  in  a  servant's  working  jacket 
came  forward  with  a  basket  and  coal-box,  and  pre- 
sented himself  with  a  perfect  bow,  as  "Wilhelm — 
the  new  man-servant." 

We  took  no  further  notice  of  him,  and  continued 
our  conversation.  I  am  passionately  fond  of  animals, 
above  all  of  dogs,  and  we  were  discussing  the  breed 
of  my  own  three  dogs,  when  it  occurred  to  me  that 
I  had  seen  one  that  morning  which  I  could  not 
classify.  I  was  describing  it,  always  in  French, 
when  suddenly  the  man-servant,  who  was  lighting 
the  fire,  turned  round  and  said  in  most  perfect 
French,  "No  doubt,  Madame,  it  was  one  of  the 
new  breed  of  *  Stachelhunde  • ! " 

At  this  we  looked  at  him  more  closely,  and  I 
said,  "  Surely  you  were  not  born  to  your  present 
occupation  ? 

It  then  turned  out  that  he  had  been  an  officer. 
Baron  W.,  and  had  to  leave  on  account  of  debt. 
In  Europe  he  had  tried  a  wine  business  on  the 
Rhine,  and  at  last  he  found  his  way  here.  Here 
he  had  fared  very  badly,  and  had  fallen  as  low 
as  this. 

He  was  an  active,  industrious,  and  very  intelligent 
man,  and  soon  rose  to  book-keeper  in  one  of  the 
large  hotels.  No  doubt  he  has  long  since  become  a 
rich  and  respected  man  in  the  country  of  unlimited 
possibilities.  A  less  satisfactory  issue  was  in  the  case 
of  the  American  existence  of  another  poor  aristocrat 
I  speak  of  Count  B.,  who  was  turned  out  of  the 

300 


DR.  HANS  KUDLICH 

highest  Austrian   State  Service  on   account   of  his 
own  family's  intrigues  against  him. 

When  we  first  came  to  know  the  old  gentleman, 
who  was  over  sixty,  he  was  eking  out  his  living  by 
giving  music  lessons  to  poorer  members  of  the 
German  Colony  for  fifty  cents.  He  earned  sufficient 
for  one  good  meal  a  day,  and  was  at  least  sheltered 
from  the  cold  in  a  tiny  room.  When  he  was  seventy- 
eight  years  of  age,  kind  friends  made  a  collection  for 
him,  and  sent  him  back  to  Europe,  where  he  died  in 
his  ninetieth  year.  I  worked  out  his  highly  interest- 
ing life  in  a  novel.  It  was  one  of  the  saddest  and 
most  awful  destinies  I  have  ever  known. 

We  often  met  the  dear  old  man  at  our  friends'. 

Austrians  cling  together  more  than  Germans 
when  they  meet  in  a  foreign  land ;  therefore  it  was 
his  own  compatriots  who  tried  to  brighten  the  life 
of  the  "  Old  Count,"  as  he  was  universally  called. 

An  interesting,  almost  historical,  name  is  that 
of  the  celebrated  revolutionist  of  1848,  Dr.  Hans 
Kudlich.  There  was  little  of  the  revolutionist  to  be 
seen  in  the  prosperous  doctor.  His  wife,  a  very 
remarkable  woman,  was  a  sister  of  Karl  Vogt. 

The  Kudlichs'  house,  with  a  number  of  pretty 
children,  was  considered  a  hospitable  meeting-place 
for  all  the  educated  Germans  and  Austrians,  and 
every  one  was  welcome  who  contributed  to  the 
general  amusement.  Music  was  cultivated  there, 
as  much  as  literature  and  science.  Thus  the  circle 
in  which  we  entered  proved  to  be  quite  stimulating. 
Perhaps  I  had  been  spoilt  in  Europe  by  knowing  the 
very  leaders  in  every  department,  and  here  I  only 
found  those  who  were,  as  Joseph  Keppler  said  of 
himself  and  others  when  I  was  admiring  one  of  his 
works,  "  Oh  !  nonsense !  We  are  all  second  class 
here.  The  first-class  ones  over  yonder  would  never 
have  let  us  get  to  the  front,  and  they  would  have 
been  quite  right" 

He   was    over-modest   in    speaking   like  this   of 

801 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

I 

himself,  because  he  was  a  great  and  true  artist,  and 
unfortunately  quitted  this  life  far  too  soon,  but  he 
was  right  as  regards  most  of  them.  Therefore, 
although  I  made  many  friends  among  them,  I  felt 
myself  intellectually,  and  especially  artistically,  in  a 
sort  of  banishment  over  there  I 


302 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

The  time  arrived  for  my  tour  in  San  Francisco. 
Much  as  I  liked  the  prospect  of  the  journey,  and 
looked  forward  to  all  the  new  impressions  that 
awaited  me,  it  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that  I  thought 
of  my  parting  from  Serge.  Notwithstanding  this, 
he  refused  to  accompany  me.  During  the  short  time 
of  our  stay  in  New  York,  he  had  already  made  a  name 
for  himself  in  American  journalism,  was  a  regular 
contributor  to  T/ie  World  and  The  Sun,  as  well 
as  to  the  principal  monthly  magazines  ;  he  wrote 
occasionally  for  The  Herald,  and  did  not  wish  to 
give  it  all  up  in  order  to  travel  merely  as  "  husband 
to  a  theatrical  star."  I  could  not  blame  him  for  this. 
We  had  seen  many  examples  of  this  species  of 
gentleman,  and,  difficult  as  it  was  for  me,  we  had  to 
accommodate  ourselves  to  it.  Had  I  not  been  bound 
by  my  contract,  I  would  have  thrown  over  the  whole 
Californian  scheme ;  but  I  was  bound,  and  so  was  he. 

In  those  days  the  journey  from  New  York  to 
San  Francisco  lasted  a  week.  My  contract  had  pro- 
vided that  I  should  travel  with  every  conceivable 
comfort,  and  this  provision  was  carried  out.  Only 
those  who  have  been  through  such  experiences  can 
imagine  what  it  was. 

Perhaps  I  have  been  a  trifle  spoilt,  and  am  very 
fastidious  in  my  ideas  of  luxury,  but  I  cannot  say 
that  I  found  these  American  journeys  as  pleasant  as 
all  Americans  seem  to  think  they  are.  I  disliked 
exceedingly  being  in  company  with  so  many  people 

303  * 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

day  and  night;  and  even  when  one  paid  for  two 
beds — an  upper  and  under  berth — there  was  no 
privacy  in  these  long  sleeping-cars.  Although  the 
beds  are  twice  as  wide  as  those  in  European  cars, 
they  are  divided  from  each  other  by  curtains  only, 
instead  of  doors,  and  as  they  take  up  the  entire  width 
of  the  carriage,  one  has  either  to  encroach  on  one's 
neighbour's  space,  or  to  dress  and  undress  in  a  kneel- 
ing posture.  In  brief,  most  unpleasant  proximity 
exists  in  these  badly  ventilated  carriages,  where  an 
absolutely  pestilential  atmosphere  prevails.  On  the 
other  hand,  when  one  was  not  obliged  to  consider 
expenses,  as  was  the  case  in  this  particular  journey 
of  mine,  what  comfort  and  luxury  were  at  my 
disposal  I  I  had  a  small  drawing-room  for  my  use 
with  sofas  arranged  on  three  sides  of  it,  which  were 
turned  into  beds  at  night.  In  front  of  this  room 
a  wide  platform  abutted,  provided  with  seats,  from 
which — once  the  dull  journey  to  Chicago  was  past 
— one  could  enjoy  the  glorious  view.  Being  well 
stocked  with  eatables  by  my  friends  in  New  York, 
I  travelled  like  a  queen.  There  were  no  restaurant 
cars  in  those  days,  yet  at  every  station  at  midday 
one  could  get  a  good  meal — mostly,  it  is  true,  of  the 
temperance  kind  as  regards  drink.  Americans,  who 
drink  so  much  whisky  and  other  spirits  in  general, 
consider  it  wicked  to  drink  a  glass  of  wine  at  meals 
in  public.  "  Drinking,"  according  to  their  ideas, 
must  be  done  secretly.  At  family  hotel  parties  they 
only  serve  iced  water,  which  is  so  injurious  to  health. 

I  did  not  feel  called  upon  to  follow  this  habit. 
My  little  wine  cellar,  which  was  well  stowed  away 
in  my  basket,  preserved  me  from  this.  I  had  to 
thank  it  also  for  an  extremely  interesting  acquaintance. 

On  the  second  day  of  my  journey  I  stood  on  my 
platform  eating  a  sandwich,  and  sipping  the  sparkling 
wine  that  was  in  my  glass,  when,  on  the  platform 
next  mine,  and  attached  to  it  as  all  American  cars 
are,  I  noticed  an  elderly  gentleman  with  grey  hair 

304 


PROFESSOR  SEMPER 

and  beard,  who  was  a  thorough  type  of  the  German 
scholar. 

He  watched  my  little  feast  with  an  amused  smile, 
but  I  thought  I  saw  a  little  envy  in  his  blue  eyes,  so 
I  called  out,  smiling  also,  and  in  German,  "  Will  you 
have  some  ?  I  am  very  well  provided,  and  shall  be 
pleased  to  share  it  with  you."  He  bowed,  and 
replied,  laughing,  "With  pleasure,  if  gnadige  Frau 
will  allow  it ! " 

I  signed  to  him  to  come  over,  and  played  the 
hostess  as  well  as  I  could  with  my  eatables  and 
drinkables.  He  enjoyed  them  immensely,  and  proved 
to  be  a  most  delightful  companion. 

When  the  meal  was  ended,  he  said,  "  Now,  carles 
stir  table  I  Of  course  I  knew  at  the  first  glance 
who  you  were,  my  beautiful,  hospitable  one  !  Now 
I  must  introduce  myself  to  you.  Professor  Karl 
Semper  from  Wiirzburg,  Professor  of  Natural 
History,  invited  by  American  Universities  to  come 
over  here  and  lecture  in  various  halls.  I  went  to 
Boston  first,  then  to  Baltimore,  and  now  I  am  going 
to  San  Francisco." 

We  were  at  once  on  well-known  ground,  and 
found  we  had  a  number  of  mutual  friends  and 
interests.  When  the  Professor  found  out  that  I  was 
especially  absorbed  in  his  own  particular  science  of 
zoology,  his  delight  knew  no  bounds.  The  journey 
became  a  very  memorable  one  for  me  ;  for  everything 
we  saw  was  now  explained  to  me  by  him.  The 
hordes  of  buffaloes  and  antelopes  in  the  vast  prairies, 
the  prairie  dogs,  whose  strange  little  huts  looked  like 
tiny  villages  ;  in  short,  all  the  manifold  animal  life  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  Sierra  Nevada,  and  the 
vast  steppes  became  doubly  interesting  under 
Semper's  animated  description. 

In  those  days,  the  traveller  was  confronted  with 
large  hordes  of  Indians,  who  crowded  round,  begging 
or  offering  for  sale  their  leather  work,  bast,  or  bark. 
Cards,    tobacco-pipes,    and    fire-water   were    never 

305  x 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

wanting.    They  are  repulsively  dirty  and  ugly  beings, 
but  intelligent  looking,  and  with  a  sad  expression. 

I  was  struck  with  several  strange  things  on  the 
journey.  High  up  on  the  Sierra  Nevada  there  was  a 
solitary  inn  and  (as  everywhere)  a  church.  One  got 
a  very  good  lunch  there,  and  it  was  here  I  saw  the 
first  Chinaman  as  waiter.  He  made  quite  a  clean  and 
sympathetic  impression  in  his  snow-white  garments, 
long  pig -tail,  with  his  polite  manners,  and  soft 
English.  A  Chinaman  can  never  pronounce  an  "  r  "  ; 
for  instance  he  always  says  "Ame/ika,"  and  "/ice" 
instead  of  rice. 

At  the  following  station  there  were  two  Chinamen 
waiters,  and  at  the  next  one  three  or  four,  and  so  on. 
They  were  pushed  into  the  country  like  a  wedge — 
very  cautiously  and  cunningly,  but  steadily  increasing 
in  numbers.  When  I  returned  to  New  York  after 
nine  months,  they  had  even  reached  that  city,  and 
founded  one  or  two  laundries  —  their  speciality — 
there. 

In  San  Francisco  I  spoke  of  what  I  had  noticed 
to  the  Russian  Consul-General  there,  Baron  von  R., 
who  was  an  authority  on  Chinese  immigration.  He 
said  I  was  quite  right ;  this  wedge-like  occupation  of 
other  countries  by  the  pig-tailed  sons  of  the  Celestial 
Empire  looked  quite  a  simple  and  harmless  non- 
political  thing.  Personally,  he  considered  the  yellow 
danger  a  most  threatening  one.  He  was  right ! 
Everybody  knows  the  trouble  the  United  States  had 
in  checking  the  influx,  and  what  strict  immigration 
laws  they  were  obliged  to  pass. 

As  far  as  Omaha  the  landscape  was  not  particularly 
interesting,  but  from  that  point  I  never  left  my 
window,  and  enjoyed  the  magnificent  views  with  all 
my  senses. 

Salt  Lake  City,  with  its  dome  by  the  sea,  and  the 
surrounding  hills,  impressed  me  with  its  ideal  beauty. 
Something  very  amusing  happened  here.  I  was 
longing  for  some  apples  and  nuts,  and  was  shown  an 

306 


THE  MORMONS 

enormous  store.  The  wealthiest  grocer  in  wealthy 
Utah  stood  himself  behind  his  counter,  and  asked  me 
in  English,  which  savoured  strongly  of  the  Swabian 
dialect,  what  I  wanted. 

When  I  answered  him  in  German,  he  was  hugely 
delighted.  By  the  time  I  had  finished  my  purchases, 
the  no  longer  youthful  Mormon  had  arrived  at  a 
declaration  of  love  and  offer  of  marriage :  "  I  have 
looked  for  such  a  wife  as  you — beautiful,  fascinating, 
and  amusing.  I  am  very  rich ;  you  shall  have  your 
own  villa,  your  horses  and  carriages.  I  have  only  two 
other  wives,  and  I  am  very  difficult  to  please  I  * 

The  thought  of  the  "  two  other  wives  "  was  quite 
enough  for  me.  I  smiled,  shook  hands  with  my 
wooer,  and  told  him  I  would  think  the  matter  over. 
For  the  moment  I  was  bound  by  contract  to  go  to 
San  Francisco. 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  "  business  is  business  I " 
Laughingly  I  left  him — never  to  meet  again. 

I  was  keenly  interested  in  the  Mormons — perhaps 
owing  to  this  little  personal  episode,  or  perhaps 
because  of  the  striking  contrast  between  the  utterly 
different  laws  of  this  state  and  those  generally  ob- 
served in  the  northern  states,  where  form  and 
exterior  circumstances  played  such  a  great  part.  I 
endeavoured  on  every  possible  occasion  to  find  out 
more  about  them. 

The  genial  Mormon  chief  Brigham  Young,  the 
successor  of  the  eminent  founder  John  Smith,  was 
just  dead.  The  state  was  in  deep  mourning,  without 
leader  or  counsel.  Brigham  Young  had  had  twenty- 
one  wives,  from  his  oldest  spouse  down  to  the 
members  of  the  present  generation.  The  old  one, 
however,  had  shared  his  regency  in  the  most  capable 
manner.  This  flock  of  women  were  now  leaderless, 
and  I  heard  that  the  successor  to  the  throne  of  the 
"Archangel"  (I  do  not  recollect  his  name)  had  in- 
tended annexing  the  whole  of  them  as  his  own. 

Nowadays  the  laws  of  the  United  States  have 

307 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

enforced  very  rigid  measures  against  several  of  the 
main  customs  of  the  "  Holy  Ones  "  (as  they  prefer  to 
call  themselves)  of  the  Salt  Lake. 

Polygamy,  especially,  is  not  allowed  to  the  same 
extent.  This,  however,  is  no  easy  task,  as  polygamy 
is  closely  interwoven  with  their  most  sacred  doctrines. 
Their  religion  is  a  curious  blend  of  all  known  exist- 
ing religions.  They  adopt  the  ancient  Indian  (and 
specially  Vedic)  idea  of  reincarnation,  and  teach 
polygamy  like  the  Koran,  interweaving  both  in  the 
strangest  manner.  It  was  a  sacred  duty  to  bring  into 
the  world  as  many  children  as  possible,  there  being 
so  many  souls  in  need  of  a  body  or  "  tabernacle  "  as 
medium  of  reincarnation.  Like  the  ancient  Indian 
doctrines,  they  believe  that  every  reincarnating  spirit 
returns  to  earth  in  a  higher  state  of  development,  and 
it  is  one  of  the  most  laudable  things  to  assist  him  to 
do  this.  Therefore,  one  man  was  entitled  to  as  many 
"  sealed "  wives  as  he  was  able  to  support,  whereas 
the  lady  was  sealed  to  him  by  the  fact  of  sexual 
intercourse. 

Adultery  was  most  rigorously  punished,  and  con- 
sidered a  terrible  disgrace.  A  wife  may  be  "  sealed  " 
for  all  time  and  eternity,  or  only  for  time.  The 
former  entitles  her  to  all  celestial  happiness. 

This  amalgamation  of  all  conceivable  ethical 
doctrine  with  material  interests  is  found,  by  the  way, 
among  many  sects  of  the  United  States.  For  in- 
stance among  the  Shakers,  the  Oneidists.  and  in  the 
Theosophical  offshoots  founded  by  Mrs.  Tingley  in 
California. 

Deeply  fanatical  religious  feeling  is  side  by  side 
in  these  settlements  with  the  keenest  business 
capacities.  All  these  sects  have  this  in  common, 
that  the  basis  of  their  religion  has  been  imparted  to 
the  founders  in  supernatural  visions. 

The  Mormon  religion  was  revealed  to  John  Smith 
in  a  dream,  which  told  him  to  dig  beneath  a  certain 
hill,  where  he  would  find  metal  plates  upon  which 

308 


THE  ONEIDISTS 

the  new  law  would  be  written.  He  did  this,  found 
the  plates,  but  could  not  read  what  was  engraved 
upon  them.  Close  by,  there  lay  a  magic  pair  of 
spectacles,  the  glasses  of  which  were  replaced  by 
precious  stones.  By  means  of  these  he  read  the 
writing,  which  became  their  sacred  doctrine.  His 
successor,  Brigham  Young,  completed  this  by  means 
of  revelation  received  in  a  state  of  ecstasy. 

The  Shakers  base  their  belief,  which  is  not  unlike 
the  Christian  in  many  ways,  on  the  revelations  of 
Anna  Lee,  who  prohibited  marriage  and  all  sexual 
union,  as  all  disasters  were  supposed  to  spring  from 
it.  She  placed  chastity  as  the  first  principle  of  their 
community,  whose  members  are  recruited  from 
auxiliaries  and  proselytes.  It  has  existed  for  a 
century  and  a  half,  and  the  members  are  esteemed 
for  their  honesty,  their  incomparable  farming,  and 
sound  business  capability. 

The  same  applies  to  the  "Oneida  community," 
only  they  possess  quite  wonderful  sexual  laws,  based 
also  on  the  revelation  of  their  founder  (whose  name  I 
do  not  know).  They  also  forbid  marriage  and  sexual 
intercourse.  In  order  to  secure  the  existence  of  this 
community  to  posterity,  the  elders  annually  select  a 
couple,  who  live  together  for  a  year  for  the  procreation 
of  children.  The  children  are  taken  from  the 
mothers  a  few  days  after  birth.  She  is  allowed  to 
nourish  the  child  in  the  general  nursery.  From  this 
it  is  handed  to  the  universal  education  board,  which 
is  supposed  to  make  all  the  children,  none  of  whom 
know  their  parents,  good  citizens,  thorough  workmen, 
and  God-fearing  people.  All  grown-up  people  are 
"  elders "  of  every  child ;  individual  parentage  is 
immaterial.  They  never  become  soldiers ;  war  and 
combat  are  contrary  to  their  laws,  as  is  the  case  with 
the  Mormons. 

The  couples  who  have  lived  together  for  one  year 
are  either  interchanged  or  remain  alone.  Love,  in  the 
usual  sense,  is  out  of  the  question  among  them. 

309 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

No  pressure  is  exercised  to  keep  the  members 
faithful  to  their  community,  but  they  seldom  leave  it. 

I  must  add  that  in  Oneida  work  is  distributed  in 
a  true  communistic  spirit;  everybody  does  every- 
thing, i.e.  every  year  as  soon  as  the  marriages  are 
concluded,  work  is  distributed  afresh,  according  to 
the  capabilities  and  knowledge  of  the  individual.  So 
and  so  many  members  are  allotted  to  agriculture — 
others  to  cattle  farming,  dairy  work,  etc. 

The  women  also  have  their  appointed  tasks,  which 
contribute  to  the  welfare  of  the  whole,  such  as 
nursing,  rearing,  and  educating  children,  kitchen 
duties,  etc.  Meals  are  partaken  of  together  in  huge 
palatial  halls,  in  spite  of  the  little  community  being 
simple  in  dress  and  customs.  Their  cleanliness  is  as 
noted  as  that  of  the  Quakers. 

Another  sect  exists  in  South  Texas,  under  the 
name  of  O  aspe.  It  was  at  the  end  of  the  'seventies 
that  a  few  people  who  were  seeking  the  "  ideal " 
united;  amongst  them  was  the  famous  Dr.  Tanner, 
who  was  the  first  to  invent  the  art  of  "  hunger,"  based 
on  the  imitation  of  Christ's  fasting ;  this  enforced 
forty  days'  abstinence  from  food.  The  adherents 
comprised  all  classes,  from  University  men  to  simple 
farmers.  There  were  about  forty  members,  including 
twelve  women.  They  solicited  a  piece  of  virgin 
soil  from  the  Government,  which  they  themselves 
cultivated  by  working  together.  This  was  difficult, 
as  the  soil  there  is  heavy  and  clayey. 

They  cultivated  their  own  wheat  and  vegetables, 
built  their  houses,  and  lived  according  to  their  "  ideal." 
They  supported  this  claim  on  a  book  of  revelation, 
communicated  by  a  trance  "  medium  " ;  this,  curiously 
enough,  is  nearly  identical  with  the  ancient  mystic 
doctrine  of  the  Indian  theosophists,  of  which  the 
unlettered  Californian  medium  could  have  had  no 
knowledge  whatever. 

They  named  their  settlement  O  as  pe.  The 
idea    of   the    name    is,    that    the    sounds   are    the 

310 


THE  "O  AS  PE" 

same  as  the  first  that  fall  from  human  lips,  from 
the  inhaling  and  exhaling  of  the  breath,  and  the 
ensuing  sigh  of  relief.  O  as  pe  is  a  most  extraordinary 
book  of  theosophical  teaching  clothed  in  the  old  Bible 
English.  But  the  most  interesting  part  of  these 
settlers'  "  ideal "  philosophy  was  that  of  education. 

Although  communistic,  their  inclinations  were 
completely  monastic.  They  were  against  all  sex 
relationship  amongst  themselves.  Without  knowing 
it,  they  followed  the  highest  teachings  of  Buddha, 
for,  besides  being  strict  vegetarians,  they  abstained 
from  alcohol,  and  were  opposed  to  the  drinking  of 
tea  and  coffee. 

They  avoided  all  distractions  of  outer  life,  desired 
to  banish  all  sexual  love,  and  only  to  recognise  that 
highest  divine  love  towards  man. 

Every  year,  one  man  and  one  woman  were  sent 
out  of  their  midst  to  the  great  cities,  into  the  centres 
of  sin  and  crime,  to  pick  up  tiny,  innocent,  and,  if 
possible,  new-born  children  ;  those  who  were  deserted 
by  their  parents,  the  disinherited  ones  of  the  earth, 
who,  like  stray  blossoms,  had  no  soil  wherein  to  grow 
and  flourish. 

Their  dream  was  to  take  such  infants  (the  sole 
condition  being  that  they  should  be  clean  and  free 
from  hereditary  taint)  and  transplant  them  to  their 
own  isolation  from  the  world.  They  were  never  to 
behold  sin  and  crime ;  they  were  to  grow  up  amidst 
healthy  surroundings,  with  simple  food  and  properly 
apportioned  work,  and  thus  were  to  become  through 
bodily  and  spiritual  purity,  thoroughly  virtuous 
beings. 

Mrs.  Tingley  founded  in  South  California  a 
veritable  paradise  for  theosophists,  who,  however, 
were  obliged  completely  to  submit  themselves  to 
her.  She  teaches  pure  theosophy,  as  may  be  read  by 
those  who  interest  themselves  in  this  in  my  little 
book,  Wie  ich  mein  Selbst  fand,  published  by  A. 
Schwetschke  und  Sohn,  Berlin. 

311 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

She  formerly  professed  to  be  the  reincarnation 
of  H.  P.  Blavatsky,  and  rules  her  little  pattern 
kingdom — which  is  lavishly  decorated  with  temples 
and  other  buildings,  parks,  and  hygienic  comforts 
and  luxury — with  a  rod  of  iron. 

After  this  long  digression,  which  may  have  seemed 
to  some  not  devoid  of  interest,  I  return  to  the 
moment  which  inspired  it,  namely  to  the  comic  offer 
of  marriage  of  my  Mormon  merchant. 

Professor  Semper  was  highly  amused  at  this 
conquest,  won  during  my  apple  transaction!  He 
shortened  my  journey  by  many  an  interesting  story 
of  his  own  youth.  Once  when  he  was  butterfly-hunting 
far  away  in  the  South  Sea  Islands,  he  was  taken 
prisoner  by  a  wild  tribe  of  cannibals,  and  was  kept 
there  for  two  or  three  years  in  an  absolute  state  of 
nature — otherwise  he  was  well  treated. 

The  tragic  part  was  that  Semper's  wife  had 
accompanied  him  on  this  South  Sea  Expedition.  She 
had  stayed  behind  in  one  of  the  larger  towns  of  the 
more  civilised  groups  of  islands  in  order  to  execute 
in  their  true  colouring  certain  necessary  illustrations 
of  collections  they  had  made  together.  She  expected 
her  husband  back  in  a  few  months. 

When  these  had  elapsed  without  his  appearing, 
she  made  countless  unsuccessful  efforts  to  find 
some  traces  of  his  whereabouts ;  these  were  in- 
spired by  the  most  tender  solicitude.  At  last, 
after  indescribable  exertion  and  complicated  ex- 
peditions on  horseback,  she  eventually  discovered  a 
trace  through  the  very  blacks  who  had  transported 
him  in  their  boats  to  their  island  and  had  made 
him  a  prisoner. 

With  the  aid  of  the  British  and  Dutch  Govern- 
ments (I  forget  to  which  of  them  the  island  was 
subject),  she  managed  to  find  her  husband  and  bring 
him  back.  But  they  had  been  terrible  years  for 
both  of  them,  they  had  blanched  their  dark  hair  and 
left  indelible  traces  on  their  features.     Her  husband 

312 


PROFESSOR  SEMPER 

had   run   the   daily  risk   of  being  devoured  by  his 
friendly  "  hosts  "  ! 

He  was  only  saved  by  the  knowledge  of  their 
language,  and  by  relating  to  them  all  sorts  of  stories 
about  Europe  and  our  civilisation,  all  of  which  ap- 
peared to  them  entirely  incredible. 


313 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

While  engaged  in  these  fascinating  conversations, 
we  reached  California.  We  arrived  towards  evening 
in  San  Francisco,  and  as  the  town  lies  on  a  peninsula, 
it  could,  like  Venice,  only  be  reached  by  train  over 
a  mighty  bridge  which  is  thrown  across  the  arm 
of  the  sea.  Thus  one  could  see  the  town  at  its 
best.  When  I  look  back  on  my  ecstasy  over 
the  beautiful  "'Frisco,"  I  become  quite  melancholy 
in  thinking  that  one  is  obliged  to  say  of  the  whole 
of  this  regal  city,  "  It  was  once."  At  this  time  it 
still  lived — that  proud  guardian  of  the  Golden  Gate, 
and  I  was  never  so  enchanted  with  any  city  in  the 
world. 

The  only  place  that  made  upon  me  anything 
approaching  the  same  impression  was  Edinburgh ; 
only  here  the  glorious  southern  colouring  and  tropical 
vegetation  were  lacking.  Neither  Naples,  Corfu,  nor 
Geneva  can  compare  with  San  Francisco. 

It  seems  like  fairyland,  and  the  view  from  one  of 
the  streets  upon  the  heights  was  simply  ideal.  The 
lofty  mountains,  the  glorious  Pacific  Ocean,  which 
from  afar  rolled  its  deep  majestic  waves  thither,  and 
the  incomparably  gorgeous  colouring,  were  simply 
entrancing.     And  now,  it  all  lies  in  ruins ! 

This  most  beautiful  of  all  cities,  over  which  nature 
poured  in  profusion  its  richest  treasures  and  greatest 
marvels,  as  if  it  wished  by  these  to  console  the  beauti- 
ful thing  for  its  early  death,  did  not  even  exist  for 
a  century ! 

314 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

In  1848  hardly  anything  was  there  except  a  few 
huts  in  a  wild  romantic  district;  it  was  thirst  for 
gold  and  gleaming  glory  of  the  discovered  metal  that 
built  up  this  marvellous  city  to  brief  magnificence 
and  quickly  sinking  happiness. 

I  may  say  that  the  intoxication  of  California 
seized  me  with  all  its  might,  and  if  only  Serge — 
whom  I  missed  dreadfully — had  been  with  me,  I 
daresay  I  should  never  have  left  it.  Whoever  has 
lived  in  this  lost  earthly  paradise  of  San  Francisco 
must  retain  the  same  longing  in  his  heart  for  this 
ideal  dwelling-place  as  did  the  first  couple  when  they 
were  driven  out  of  the  Garden  of  Eden.  The  flaming 
sword  here  became  the  sea  of  fire,  and  like  the  ancient 
legend,  when  everything  grew  to  monstrous  pro- 
portions, the  simile  could  be  applied  even  more 
appropriately.  Mourning  for  this  glorious  city  makes 
one  lament  its  destruction. 

Even  if  we  read  to-day  in  astonishment  and 
admiration  that  the  great  financiers  of  New  York's 
Wall  Street  are  building  it  up  almost  upon  its  smoking 
ruins,  how  they  contemplate  rebuilding,  and  in  still 
greater  splendour  and  magnificence  than  before — of 
course  one  believes  them,  for  what  could  Californian 
gold  not  achieve  when  coupled  with  American  astute- 
ness !  But  they  will  never  be  able  to  bestow  on  it 
the  fascination  of  the  first  San  Francisco.  Its  chief 
charm  did  not  consist  in  its  incomparable  position 
on  the  Golden  Gate  in  the  midst  of  a  crown  of 
mountains  and  eternal  blossoms  ;  nor  in  the  southern 
glory  of  colour ;  nor  in  its  burning  sunrises  or  sun- 
sets, nor  its  charming  population ;  nor  even  in  its 
exquisite  climate,  that  knows  neither  summer  glow 
nor  winter  frost :  it  was  the  legendary  beginning, 
the  unique  upspringing  and  blossoming  forth,  that 
so  powerfully  attracted  every  European  who  possessed 
the  slightest  imagination. 

I  alighted  at  the  beautiful  Palace  Hotel,  at 
that  time  the  richest  and  most  comfortable  one  in 

315 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

California,  but  now  also  destroyed  in  the  earthquake 
of  April  18,  1906. 

Californian  belles  made  it  a  condition  then,  when 
wedding  their  "boys,"  that  they  were  to  live  for  a 
time  in  the  Palace  Hotel. 

Well,  in  spite  of  all  the  luxury  and  the  splendid 
menus,  I  did  not  find  it  such  a  paradise. 

The  service  was  bad,  and  just  those  menus  in- 
supportable to  the  spoilt  palate  of  a  European. 

The  cuisine  in  America  is  awful !  I  shudder 
when  I  think  of  it. 

Professor  Semper  held  his  two  or  three  interesting 
lectures.  I  appeared  with  great  success  in  Paul 
Lindau's  Maria  and  Magdalene.  Until  this  came 
off,  I  stayed  in  the  hotel. 

When  Semper  was  about  to  depart,  I  told  him 
how  unsympathetic  this  building  was  to  me.  He 
advised  me  to  look  at  lodgings  in  a  German  family — 
the  Fischers.  The  father  was  the  custodian  of  the 
Academy  of  Science,  and  they  would  be  delighted  to 
have  me  with  them.  We  drove  there  at  once,  and  I 
immediately  took  the  rooms — one  nice  large  bedroom, 
and  a  small,  original-looking  salon.  The  latter  looked 
very  much  like  a  natural  history  cabinet,  so  many 
curios  were  kept  there ;  and  next  it  was  a  charming 
little  greenhouse  with  living  birds  and  rare  plants. 

To  me — such  a  friend  of  nature — it  seemed  a 
paradise.  The  Fischers  themselves  were  dear,  kind 
people — he  was  a  passionate  zoologist,  who  passed 
half  the  year  journeying  in  distant,  unknown  districts 
in  order  to  collect  all  manner  of  plants  and  animals 
for  the  academy,  for  himself,  and  for  export  to 
Hamburg.  Now  he  was  here  for  the  winter,  and 
was  delighted  to  find  me  so  appreciative  of  all  his 
curiosities. 

When  I  looked  at  the  large  comfortable  bedroom, 
he  asked  me  if  it  would  disturb  me  if  on  the  chest  of 
drawers  two  enormous  glass  cases  covered  with  wiring 
remained,   as  they   were   fixed   with    heavy   stones. 

316 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

Snakes  were  in  them,  sleeping  their  winter  sleep — a 
boa  constrictor  and  a  Mexican  snake.  Now  they 
were  hibernating  for  six  months,  and  nothing  could 
rouse  them. 

"  Let  them  stay  there,  I  don't  mind,"  was  my 
answer. 

The  same  day  I  entered  my  fairy  castle. 

I  made  several  delightful  expeditions  with  Semper 
to  look  for  shells  and  animals,  especially  salamanders. 
We  drove  southwards  along  the  lovely  coast,  and 
revelled  in  the  heavenly  beauty  and  delight  of  it  all. 
The  beach  of  the  Californian  coast  is  composed  of 
fine  sand,  which  the  dampness  has  made  as  flat  as  a 
macadamised  road,  and  the  light  buggies  and  little 
one-horse  vehicles  are  drawn  so  swiftly  by  mustangs 
that  they  seem  to  fly  and  hardly  leave  any  traces  of 
the  wheels.  One  can  drive  on  the  very  verge  of  the 
sea,  and  so  quickly  that  one  hardly  feels  the  motion 
at  all.  Sometimes,  indeed  often,  one  comes  upon  the 
treacherous  quicksands,  which  melt  like  water  under 
horses  and  carriages  ;  these  may  be  engulfed  without 
hope  of  salvation. 

Nothing  of  the  kind  happened  to  me,  and  it 
became  a  perfect  passion  with  me  to  fly  thus  along 
the  beach. 

Then  came  the  farewell  with  dear  old  Semper ! 

I  made  certain  acquaintances  through  him — Baron 
von  Behr,  President  of  the  Academy  of  Science,  and 
a  nice  and  very  old  physician,  Dr.  Aiders. 

The  first  was  a  Courlander  by  birth  who  had  been 
here  for  years,  and  was  a  famous  specialist  in  zoology  ; 
the  latter  was  a  Hanoverian,  who  soon  loved  and 
spoilt  me  like  a  little  daughter.  I  remember  the 
following  original  episode  of  Baron  von  Behr.  We 
had  all  made  an  excursion  to  the  so-called  Mission 
"Dolores,"  the  oldest  settlement  of  San  Francisco, 
which  had  remained  unchanged,  and  around  which 
the  beautiful  city  was  grouped.  The  Mission  is  in 
the   hands   of  the  Jesuits,  and  we   found  that  the 

317 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

Protestant  baron  of  the  Baltic  provinces  had  become 
a  firm  follower  of  them.  At  that  time  I  was  of 
materialistic,  perhaps  atheistic,  opinions,  although  I 
really  occupied  myself  very  little  with  these  things, 
and  avoided  speaking  of  them. 

In  consequence  of  my  visit  to  the  old  Mission,  I 
expressed  my  astonishment  a  few  weeks  later  to 
Baron  Behr  that  he,  a  scientific  man  and  a  zoologist, 
could  ever  be  such  a  faithful  son  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  and  even  of  the  Jesuits.  To  this 
he  replied  good-naturedly,  "Yes!  you  see,  one 
doesn't  know  anything  for  certain,  but  one  thing  is 
absolutely  sure,  and  that  is,  that  we  must  die.  This 
is  what  I  think  !  If  afterwards  all  is  really  at  an  end 
— well !  this  little  church  piety  won't  have  done  me 
any  harm.  But  if  it  be  true  about  the  eternal  life 
and  all  the  rest,  well,  then,  it  is  better  to  be  on  the 
safe  side,  and  be  sure  of  all  advantages." 

We  laughed  heartily,  and  the  Jesuitical  point  of 
view  of  the  old  Professor  Baron  von  Behr  was  often  a 
source  of  amusement  to  us. 

The  career  of  my  old  friend  Dr.  Ahlers  had  been 
more  interesting.  He  had  come  over  as  one  of  the 
first  pioneers,  had  gone  through  the  whole  of  the 
mad  period  of  gold-digging,  had  exchanged  his  first 
nugget  for  a  diamond,  as  gold-dust  or  nuggets  were 
stolen  too  easily.  He  had  always  worn  this  diamond 
as  a  talisman,  and  had  it  made  into  a  pendant  as 
a  farewell  gift  to  me,  that  I  might  wear  it  also  as  a 
lucky  talisman.  I  treasure  it  to  this  day,  even  if  its 
donor  has  long  since  been  laid  to  rest. 

My  old  colleague  told  us  mad  and  wild  stories  of 
those  days  of  gold-digging,  where  each  man  was  his 
own  avenger  and  judge  ;  and  how  he  told  it ! 

For  instance,  when  I  stood  with  him  in  the  fine, 
animated  Market  Street  and  praised  the  elegance 
one  saw  everywhere  around,  the  old  man  nodded 
approvingly,  saying,  "  Yes,  yes !  You  may  well 
admire  it,  for  the  whole  space  from  here  to  the  port 

318 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

has  been  reclaimed  with  endless  trouble  from  the 
sea."  Or  he  said,  "Imagine  that  everywhere,  here 
where  you  now  see  palace  after  palace,  hardly  thirty 
years  ago  there  were  only  miserable  huts  belonging 
to  the  wildest  fellows,  gold-diggers  and  washers,  to 
whom  I  also  belonged !  The  ground,  which  now 
offers  no  unevenness  to  your  Paris  shoes,  was  then 
all  heaped  up,  and  searched  for  gold — only  gold — by 
the  gold-seekers  of  all  the  world  !  There  was  nothing 
but  the  wildly  romantic,  beautiful  country  around ; 
the  wonderful  climate,  the  Mission  building  of  the 
Jesuits,  Buona  Herba  ;  and  in  most  of  those  dwelling 
here  the  one  thought,  besides  the  gold  fever,  was  envy 
of  the  others  who  perhaps  had  been  more  fortunate 
in  their  digging  than  themselves,  and  of  whom  they 
took  measure,  wondering  if,  in  the  silence  of  the 
night,  a  revolver-shot  could  not  transfer  the  other's 
prize  to  themselves." 

When  one  heard  all  these  things,  one  was  seized 
with  amazement  and  admiration  at  all  the  magnificence 
that  the  mind  and  industry  of  man  had  created  here 
in  so  short  a  time. 

When  I  raved  about  the  beauty  of  the  women  of 
the  Golden  Gate  (for  intermingling  of  races,  Anglo- 
Saxon  and  Spanish,  Mexican  and  German,  had 
created  here  a  most  perfect  type  of  human  being), 
my  old  friend  smiled  in  sad,  ironical  memory,  and 
said  :  "  Yes,  the  San  Franciscan  is  now  able  to  revel  in 
the  most  luxuriant  beauty  of  women,  but  then — good 
Heavens !  Hundreds  of  them  had  to  make  shift 
with  one,  who  could  not  be  reckoned  as  most  beautiful. 
When  a  woman  decided  to  live  amongst  us  savages, 
she  had  to  be — well,  let  us  say  ■  unprejudiced '  !  For 
this,  however,  we  treated  her  like  a  queen,  and  all 
the  men,  without  exception,  willingly  became  her 
slaves.  All  this  was  only  changed  when  the  great 
stream  of  emigrants  came  over  here  from  the  East, 
with  wife  and  child,  and  few  possessions.  Each  new 
caravan  was  greeted  with  delight.     They  even  brought 

319 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

young  girls  with  them,  so  the  clergymen  belonging  to 
the  Mission  soon  had  their  hands  full  with  marriages 
and  christenings.  Soon  the  most  charming  little  villas 
and  gardens  sprang  up  in  the  newly-levelled  ground ; 
and  sometimes  in  the  midst  of  all  this  creative  energy 
one  felt  as  if  one  were  a  magician  in  a  fairy  tale." 

My  old  doctor  told  me  all  this,  and  how  he 
had  come  out  here  in  the  early  'forties  as  a  poor 
adventurous  German  student,  and  in  consequence  of 
his  luck  in  gold-digging  had  long  since  become  a 
prosperous  and  respected  physician.  It  was  in  the 
glamour  of  his  description  that  the  legendary  magic 
of  San  Francisco's  uprising  was  woven  for  me ;  no 
rebuilding  of  it,  I  said,  could  ever  restore  the  lost 
glory. 

The  destruction  of  the  wonderful  city,  with  whose 
brilliancy  and  magnificence  no  other  city  in  the  world 
can  be  compared,  was  to  me  like  the  loss  of  a  beloved 
being ;  for  me  an  ideal  world  has  departed  with  it. 

The  doctor  told  me  another  amusing  story  of 
those  days.  When  the  gold  fever  was  abating,  a 
tremendous  swindle  was  thought  out  by  inventive 
brains ;  some  people  returned  from  the  so-called 
"  Pebble  Bay,"  in  a  state  of  great  delight.  They 
said  they  had  found  precious  stones  en  brut  there, 
especially  sapphires  and  rubies,  strewn  about  like 
shells  amongst  the  pebbles.  They  showed  their  finds, 
and  the  result  was  that  a  fever  broke  out  among  the 
people  far  greater  than  that  of  the  gold-washing. 
Everybody  rushed  there ;  societies  were  formed  ; 
stones  were  found — yes,  a  good  many  ;  but  after  two 
years,  in  spite  of  digging,  washing,  and  seeking,  every 
trace  of  them  disappeared. 

It  turned  out  that  the  whole  thing  was  a  colossal 
fraud,  though  cleverly  planned.  A  small  company 
bought  brut  stones  to  the  value  of  about  2,000,000 
marks,  strewed  them  carefully  on  the  ground  among 
the  pebbles,  and  then  encouraged  a  few  innocent 
people  who  had  discovered  them  to  spread  the  news. 

320 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

They  soon  regained  their  2,000,000  marks,  as  the 
"  claims "  were  sold  very  high,  but  the  clever  gold- 
diggers  did  not  allow  themselves  to  be  taken  in  as 
much  as  they  had  calculated.  The  swindle  was  dis- 
covered too  soon,  and  resulted,  I  fancy,  in  the  hang- 
ing and  lynching  of  some  of  the  originators. 

The  new  country  became  civilised  with  astonishing 
rapidity.  Very  soon  the  rough  plots  of  ground  were 
ornamented  with  fine  streets  and  beautiful  buildings. 
San  Francisco  blossomed  into  the  most  elegant  and 
fascinating  town  in  the  States.  Universities  and 
churches,  hotels  and  means  of  communication,  all 
grew  with  the  suddenness  and  splendour  that  is  only 
possible  in  America,  and  especially  in  California. 

In  the  founding  of  all  this,  old  Aiders  played  a 
very  great  part,  and  so  rose  to  be  one  of  the  most 
prominent  personages. 

As  I  have  already  said,  he  took  a  fatherly  interest 
in  me,  and  it  was  principally  due  to  him  that  I  learnt 
to  know  the  country  and  the  people  on  the  borders 
of  the  Pacific  during  my  stay  there. 

I  visited  with  him  the  splendid  charitable  institu- 
tions, the  orphanages,  almshouses,  hospitals,  and  con- 
valescent homes,  which  were  scattered  about  in 
park -like  surroundings  on  the  hills  around  the  Bay 
of  San  Francisco. 

They  are  unique  in  their  comfort  and  situation. 
One  might  almost  consider  it  a  happiness  to  be 
orphaned,  aged,  poor,  or  sick  here  ! 

Even  to-day  I  remember  with  a  kind  of  envy  the 
so-called  "  poor  "  yonder  in  the  earthly  paradise  called 
California. 

Until  now  I  had  only  known  the  dry  season,  but 
people  were  already  raving  to  me  what  the  heavenly 
11  Bay  "  would  be  like  when  the  rainy  weather  set  in. 
This  blessed  country  knows  no  winter,  but  during  a 
few  months  the  people  hope  for  a  plentiful  rainfall, 
which  transforms,  as  if  with  a  magician's  wand,  the 
whole  country  into  a  sea  of  flowers.     At  other  times, 

321  Y 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

their  need  of  a  damper  atmosphere  is  only  supplied 
by  the  cool  sea  winds,  which  rise  twice  a  day,  and 
cool  the  air  considerably  from  four  to  six  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon.  There  are  four  crops  of  strawberries 
and  asparagus  in  San  Francisco,  a  fairyland  for 
connoisseurs  ! 

Well,  the  longed-for  moment  of  rain  arrived. 
The  huge  drops  of  water  fell  from  the  quickly- 
gathering  clouds.  One  day  of  rain,  then  three  fine 
ones — this  is  the  winter  of  those  blessed  plains  ! 

During  these  particularly  beautiful  days  we  went 
on  a  favourite  excursion,  which  I  liked  doing  over 
and  over  again.  The  way  lay  through  the  wonderful 
Golden  Gate  Park  to  the  Sea  Lions'  Rock,  and  for 
many  hours  we  drove  through  tropical  vegetation. 

In  the  midst  of  the  foaming  surf  of  the  Pacific's 
long  and  majestic  waves,  there  stands  a  rock  which 
belongs  to  the  seals.  The  giant  seals  here  have  been 
protected  by  Government  for  many  years,  and  gambol 
like  young  dogs.  Amidst  a  droning  and  bellowing 
that  drowns  the  noise  of  the  surf  beyond  the  rock, 
with  the  spray  dashing  against  it,  a  magnificent  hotel 
was  built,  on  the  verandah  of  which  one  could  sit 
comfortably  shielded,  and  watch  the  fine  spectacle. 
All  of  this  is  now  destroyed. 

Farther  out,  the  lighthouse  watches  over  the 
Golden  Gate ;  and  on  the  right,  mountains  shut  in 
the  wonderful  Bay  from  the  open  sea. 

I  could  sit  there  for  hours,  and  never  tire  of 
admiring  this  splendid  natural  picture,  and  the  ever- 
changing  gambols  of  the  seals  as  they  swam  through 
the  surging  flood,  like  mermaids  out  of  Andersen's 
fairy  tales  ;  or  sometimes  landed  on  the  rocks,  when 
they  were  transformed  into  clumsy  monsters,  using 
their  fins  to  climb  up  the  steep  rocks  in  order  to 
snooze  in  the  sun  ;  or  again,  when  annoyed  by  it,  to 
dash  headlong  into  the  flood  with  a  bound  which 
seemed  to  court  death.  It  is  a  picture  that  holds 
one  spellbound,  and  exists  nowhere  else  in  the  world. 

322 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

The  most  fashionable  people  of  San  Francisco 
assembled  in  the  hotel  during  the  afternoon  and  on 
beautiful  moonlight  nights.  Here  everything  that  the 
monde  of  the  factitious  society  life  could  imagine 
in  splendour  and  magnificence,  vied  with  that  which 
the  natural  world  offered.  It  was  a  unique  picture, 
this  gleaming  San  Francisco,  embracing  the  highest 
civilisation  and  the  greatest  glories  of  nature. 

Yet,  amidst  all  the  light  and  brightness,  there 
was  one  dark  and  uncanny  corner — "  Chinatown  " — 
and  when  I  read  of  the  ghastly  scenes  that  took  place 
there  during  the  earthquake  with  dagger  and  revolver, 
I  had  to  remember  what  I  had  heard  once  remarked, 
as  it  may  possess  a  possible  interest  for  others.  I  am 
referring,  of  course,  to  "  Chinatown." 

As  already  stated,  my  attention  had  been  drawn 
to  the  remarkable  pigtail- wearers  on  my  journey  to 
California.  My  interest  in  the  yellow  emigrants  was 
increased  when  at  my  old  friend's,  Dr.  Ahler's,  I 
learnt  to  know  his  servant,  or,  as  he  jokingly  called 
him,  his  housekeeper. 

He  had  served  the  doctor  and  the  friend  who 
lived  with  him  for  many  years  alone.  Both  European 
gentlemen  had  no  other  servants  in  the  charming 
little  villa,  and  were  waited  on  in  the  most  ideal 
way.  The  house  was  kept  scrupulously  clean,  and 
"  Jimmy,"  as  all  Chinamen  are  nicknamed  over  there, 
did  the  cooking,  washing,  cleaning,  and  waited  in  a 
most  perfect  way  ! 

And  how  the  house  was  looked  after  !  How  he 
cooked,  washed,  cleaned,  and  waited  !  After  some 
time  he  cooked  for  me  also,  as  I  did  not  like  the  food 
anywhere  else.  He  prepared  splendid  little  dinners,  at 
which  rice  in  every  conceivable  form  played  a  part. 
When  I  once  asked  for  a  real  Chinese  meal,  then 
indeed  awful  things  appeared,  but  my  old  friend  had 
reserve  supplies,  so  that  we  were  not  obliged  to  curb  our 
hunger  with  fish  prepared  in  syrup,  and  sweet  sugared 
chickens,  or  salted  oranges. 

323 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

During  one  of  these  dinners,  and  his  silent 
attendance,  I  questioned  this  very  intelligent  "  Jim  " 
on  many  things,  and  was  informed  that  he  was  here 
in  America  in  order  to  save  six  hundred  dollars ; 
then  he  was  returning  to  China.  For  one  hundred 
dollars  he  could  buy  himself  a  better  wife  (cheaper 
ones  were  not  much  good,  he  said) ;  for  five  hundred 
dollars  he  could  buy  and  stock  a  nice  little  business, 
and  then  he  would  be  a  made  man.  Just  now  he  spent 
his  nights  learning  the  second  class  of  writing  ;  there 
are  four  of  these  classes.  Every  Chinaman  learnt 
the  first,  the  higher  classes  only  learnt  the  third,  and 
the  fourth  is  only  permitted  to  be  used  by  mandarins 
and  the  royal  family.  The  second  was  sufficient  to 
earn  a  certain  consideration  for  those  who  knew  it. 
Jimmy  enlightened  me  freely  on  many  subjects.  It 
was  only  when  I  touched  on  religion  that  he  remained 
silent.  Silence  is  the  greatest  weapon  of  the  Chinese 
in  America.  If  in  a  court  of  justice  witnesses  are 
called  up  against  a  member  of  the  celestial  kingdom, 
the  only  answer  one  can  obtain  is,  "No  under- 
standee,"  or  a  dead  silence,  and  the  putting  on  of  an 
idiotic  expression.  This  behaviour  is  the  despair  of 
the  American  courts  of  justice,  as  when  no  other 
than  Chinese  witnesses  are  called  a  crime  can  hardly 
ever  be  proved.  Our  Jimmy  did  the  same  thing 
whenever  we  questioned  him  about  his  religious 
convictions  and  customs,  especially  when  I  dared  to 
mention  the  holy  name  of  Confucius,  or,  as  he 
pronounced  it,  "  Con-fu-zee-ee." 

He  repeated  the  word  in  his  own  fashion,  and  his 
expression  then  grew  more  and  more  reserved  and 
stony ;  his  eyes  glazed,  and  he  was  silent,  as  only  an 
Asiatic  knows  how  to  be  silent. 

Of  course  this  strange  behaviour  only  roused  my 
interest  to  the  highest  pitch. 

I  had  already  visited  the  Chinese  theatre  with 
Semper  and  other  friends  who,  like  most  people 
settled  in  San  Francisco,  were  the  happy  possessors 

324 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

of  a  Chinese  servant.  I  had,  however,  been  most 
unpleasantly  struck  by  the  infernal  noise  made  by  the 
instruments  used  there.  I  had  never  been  able  to 
stand  it  for  long,  in  spite  of  the  magnificent  costumes. 
One  could  never  understand  anything,  because  a 
Chinese  tragedy  always  plays  on  through  many  years, 
therefore  one  can  hardly  gather  anything  from  their 
action.  The  actors,  according  to  our  notions,  strike 
us  as  rough,  grimacing,  and  unnatural,  on  account  of 
their  grotesquely  painted  faces ;  also  their  scenery 
and  other  adjuncts  are  too  naive  ;  a  table  with  chairs 
piled  upon  it  represents  a  mountain,  and  if  the  actors 
climb  over  it,  they  mean  to  represent  the  traversing 
of  a  mountain  pass.  Wild  shrieks  and  clashing  of 
swords  mean  a  battle,  etc.  The  play  lasts  un- 
interruptedly for  twenty-four  hours ! 

I  now  come  to  an  extraordinary  peculiarity  of  the 
children  of  the  sun.  They  did  not  seem  to  require 
any  sleep.  One  sees  them  during  every  hour  of  the 
day  or  night — the  big  merchants  sitting  in  their 
heavy  silken  garments  before  their  reckoning  machines 
and  writing  down  profits  here  and  there,  as  also  the 
smallest  business  people,  laundrymen  and  so  forth, 
always  busily  ironing  in  their  white  linen  garments. 
All  these  eccentricities  interested  me  very  much,  and 
I  resolved  to  study  most  minutely  the  Chinese  town 
in  the  heart  of  San  Francisco.  My  old  friend  Ahlers 
thought  that  this  would  only  be  possible  at  night, 
and  this  wasn't  the  thing  for  him  at  his  age.  I  could 
only  hope  to  understand  everything  thoroughly  if  I 
took  a  detective  with  me,  who  was  well  acquainted 
with  Chinatown,  and  under  his  protection  descended 
with  him  into  the  midst  of  their  activities.  For  this 
purpose  we  would  take  tea  beforehand  in  some  better- 
class  tea-house.  At  twelve  o'clock  the  detective  was 
to  take  me  in  charge,  and  I  was  to  enter,  disguised, 
the  portals  of  hell.  In  this  first-class  tea-house  sat 
charming  Americans  with  their  lady  friends  in  superb 
evening  toilettes,  next  to  rich   Chinamen  in  costly 

325 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

brocade  garments,  either  alone  or  in  couples.  They 
do  not  bring  their  wives  to  foreign  countries,  and  look 
contemptuously  at  the  Westerns  who  thus  openly 
expose  their  wives  and  daughters  to  the  public  gaze. 
The  only  Chinese  women  in  San  Francisco  are  those 
in  brothels  ;  these  are  prostitutes  of  the  lowest  order, 
and  semi-imprisoned  there.     But  of  these  later. 

The  only  exception  was  a  rich  merchant  who  had  his 
wife  and  sister  with  him.  These  two  ladies,  in  spite 
of  their  strict  Chinese  garments  and  coiffure,  led  an 
absolutely  Western  life,  to  the  horror  of  their  com- 
patriots. They  kept  governesses  for  the  English 
language,  music,  declamation  and  French.  I  learnt 
more  of  their  manners  and  customs  from  one  of 
their  governesses,  to  whom  I  shall  refer  by  and  by. 
The  dignified  and  quiet  demeanour  of  the  Orientals, 
who  seem  to  have  relegated  all  noise  to  their  theatres, 
contrasted  pleasantly  in  the  restaurant  with  the  loud 
tones  and  laughter  of  the  Europeans. 

After  a  meal,  consisting  of  an  original  sort  of  dish 
prepared  with  fish  and  rice  (sometimes  not  ill-tasting), 
I  gave  myself  into  the  hands  of  the  detective  with 
whom  I  had  made  friends  the  previous  day.  We 
began  our  wanderings  with  the  inspection  of  the 
lodging-houses. 

If  my  guide  had  not  been  recommended  to  me  by 
Dr.  Ahlers  himself,  and  been  stated  by  him  to  be 
perfectly  trustworthy,  I  think  I  should  already  have 
given  up  the  expedition,  as  this  beginning  of  things 
was  so  uncanny  and  unappetising. 

We  went  up  and  down  pitch-dark  staircases 
illuminated  only  by  the  lantern  of  my  companion, 
who  recommended  me  from  the  first  to  pick  my 
skirts  up  high  and  hold  them  close  together. 

Everything  here  was  sticky,  untidy,  and  slimy. 
One  slipped  about  on  a  gelatinous  floor,  to  land 
finally  after  endless  ups  and  downs  into  a  wide  dark 
courtyard.  Here  small  coal  -  fires  were  burning 
beneath    kettles,   around   which   cowered   a   strange 

326 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

company  of  Chinese,  young  and  old,  their  legs 
crossed  under  them  in  true  Oriental  fashion.  They 
looked  at  us  indifferently ;  we  appeared  to  them  in 
their  own  dwellings  despicable  beings — not  human  ; 
followers  neither  of  Confucius  nor  of  Buddha.  They 
scarcely  spoke  among  themselves,  and,  from  what  I 
could  see,  threw  all  kinds  of  filth,  looking  like  frogs 
and  snakes,  into  their  kettles,  or  pulled  remarkable 
titbits  out  of  them,  then  placed  them  in  little  vessels, 
and  devoured  them  cleverly  with  their  little  ivory 
chop-sticks.  The  only  drink  was  tea,  which  each  one 
prepared  in  his  small  cup  without  a  handle.  The 
whole  made  a  disgusting  impression  on  me,  and  when 
the  detective  proposed  to  visit  the  big  house  to  see 
the  people's  sleeping  apartments,  I  refused  decisively. 
The  offensive  smell,  this  uncovered  courtyard,  and  the 
slippery  stairs  had  satisfied  my  curiosity. 

From  here  we  turned  to  the  opium  dens,  to  those 
where  the  better  classes  gave  themselves  up  to  the 
enjoyment  of  the  drug,  and  also  to  those  of  the  lower 
classes.  A  nice  young  Chinaman  led  us  to  the 
houses  of  the  former,  and  seemed  to  treat  my 
companion  with  respectful  awe,  for  although  the 
latter  did  not  wear  exactly  a  policeman's  uniform, 
the  shield  on  his  breast,  and  the  club  hanging  by  his 
side,  also  the  revolver  which  was  distinctly  visible 
beneath  his  coat,  testified  to  his  power.  He  was  a 
well-known  visitor  to  all  these  dens  of  vice,  and  one 
whom  they  half  feared,  and  yet  were  half  pleased  to 
see,  as  he  understood  how  to  take  them. 

In  this  better-class  opium  den  the  couches  were 
covered  with  clean  linen,  and  in  many  respects  similar 
to  the  poorer  ones,  which  latter  I  shall  presently 
describe. 

These  couches  were  shallow,  with  only  a  thin 
pillow  for  the  head,  and  separated  from  each  other 
by  Chinese  screens.  In  each  room  there  were  two 
or  three  couches,  not  placed  one  over  the  other ;  nor 
were  the  opium  smokers  served  by  one  man  alone  as 

327 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOW1TZA 

in  the  poorer  quarters.  I  could  only  see  the  arrange- 
ments here,  not  the  smokers.  The  rooms  were  dimly 
lighted  by  paper  lanterns. 

Our  next  visit  was  more  interesting,  as  it  was  to 
the  real  opium  dens.  The  detective  knocked  in  a 
peculiar  manner  at  the  door  of  a  miserable  house,  and 
a  horrible  -  looking  old  Chinaman  put  out  his  head, 
and  whispered  softly  to  my  companion. 

At  a  hint  from  my  guide,  I  gave  the  old  man  a 
dollar,  whereupon  he  opened  the  door  and  let  us 
through  an  unspeakably  filthy  passage  to  the  den  of 
opium  smokers. 

At  first  I  fell  back,  as  the  smell  that  greeted  me 
took  away  my  breath — the  opium  fumes,  the  un- 
washed men  of  the  yellow  race,  who,  like  all  human 
races,  have  their  especial  and  to  others  often  repulsive 
smell — in  short,  a  vapour  which  aroused  one's  disgust 
in  the  highest  degree.  This  was  intensified  by  a  low- 
burning  oil-lamp,  and  the  smoke  of  the  glimmering 
coals  which  were  always  in  readiness  for  the  opium 
pipes. 

Imagine  three  or  four  beings  lying  one  above  the 
other  on  narrow  planks — like  railway  beds  with  hard 
mattresses — each  long  and  wide  enough  to  accom- 
modate one  man ;  the  rooms  in  which  planks  are 
arranged  are  about  twenty  feet  long. 

Here  the  smokers  lay  in  all  degrees  of  opium  intoxi- 
cation, above  and  behind  each  other.  Those  who  were 
still  awake  looked  at  us  with  half-cunning  glances, 
and  two  of  them  began  to  converse  with  me  at  once. 

"  Had  I  ever  smoked  opium  ? " 

"  No,  never  ! " 

"  Well,  you  ought  to  try  a  pull."  He  handed  me 
a  pipe  which  had  just  been  filled. 

My  detective  explained  to  me  that  this  was  a 
great  civility,  and  I  must  not  refuse.  The  old  Chinese 
serving-man  took  the  little  pipe,  put  a  new  mouth- 
piece on  it,  and  blew  up  the  coals.  The  thing  looks 
like  a  reed  penholder,  upon  which  one  has  put  a  small 

328 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

inkstand.  This  contains  about  a  thimbleful  of  opium 
rosin,  that  is  vaporised  by  the  glowing  coals  and 
emptied  by  a  few  whiffs. 

I  was  afraid  of  the  sickness  which  always  accom- 
panies the  first  smoke,  took  the  little  pipe,  pretended 
it  was  impossible  for  me  to  learn  how  to  use  it — I 
preferred  giving  the  pleasant  host  a  dollar  in  thanks 
— and  looked  at  the  rest  of  those  who  were  present. 
They  lay  in  every  imaginable  pose,  with  glassy  staring 
eyes,  their  hands  hanging  down  ;  from  these  the  old 
Chinaman  took  the  little  pipes,  which  were  no  longer 
needed,  murmuring  softly.  They  were  all  sallow, 
with  a  death -like  flabby  skin,  and  dirty  linen  blouses, 
and  with  black  teeth  showing  in  their  open  mouths. 
It  was  a  disgusting  sight. 

As  I  was  walking  through  the  rows,  and  passed 
my  first  hospitable  acquaintance,  he  lay  already  reeling 
ecstatically.  However,  he  still  knew  me,  and  assured 
me  there  was  no  higher  felicity  than  that  in  which  he 
now  was. 

The  detective  told  me  that  most  of  them  who 
pursued  their  vice  here  only  indulged  in  it  a  few 
hours  during  the  night;  others  again  only  worked 
sufficiently  to  gain  the  few  cents  necessary  to  still 
the  craving  of  their  opium  hunger,  and  passed  nearly 
the  whole  of  the  twenty-four  hours  in  the  pestilential 
hole.  They  soon  perished,  and  only  then  were  able  to 
rejoice  their  fatherland  by  presenting  it  with  their 
pigtails. 

For  if  a  Chinaman  dies  in  a  foreign  country,  and 
does  not  possess  the  means  to  have  his  body  trans- 
ported to  China,  the  pigtail  must  go  back ;  otherwise 
his  soul  is  lost.  Every  year  many  coffins,  encased  in 
bright  boxes  and  full  of  pigtails,  were  returned  to  the 
sacred  Empire  of  the  sun. 

From  this  den  of  vice  we  proceeded  to  the  next  — 
to  the  wretched  Chinese  women  who  here  served  as 
filles  de  joie  to  the  lowest  of  their  countrymen  and  to 
oriental  sailors. 

329 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

We  halted  before  miserable  wooden  huts,  and  my 
guide  had  also  for  these  doors  a  peculiar,  very  char- 
acteristic knock.  The  door  was  held  ajar,  and  a 
hideous  old  Chinawoman  peeped  through  the  chink. 
As  soon  as  she  recognised  the  detective,  she  opened 
the  door  wide  enough  to  admit  of  our  slipping  in. 
Darkness  enfolded  us,  and  only  in  the  distance  a  few 
paper  lanterns  showed  us  the  way  to  the  "inner 
apartments." 

The  creatures  that  lay  here  on  planks  which  were 
arranged  similarly  to  those  in  the  opium  dens,  and 
who  were  waiting  for  business,  were  no  women — they 
were  animals,  poor,  ugly,  wretched  animals,  looking  as 
such,  treated  as  such,  behaving  as  such. 

I  had  asked  the  detective  to  remain  outside,  as  it 
was  painful  to  me  to  look  at  all  this  in  the  presence 
of  a  man ;  and  as  the  prostitutes  neither  spoke  nor 
understood  English,  a  terrible  old  woman  had  to  act 
as  interpreter. 

The  girls  were,  according  to  my  idea,  repulsively 
ugly ;  their  hair  was  carefully  dressed  in  the  Chinese 
fashion,  and  they  were  clad  in  a  short  coloured  cotton 
gown  like  a  shirt;  but  like  all  Chinese  men  and 
women,  they  had  very  delicate  little  hands  and  feet. 
But  their  bodies ! 

The  old  woman  presented  them  to  me  as  one 
does  animals  at  the  cattle-market,  and  not  for  a 
moment  did  I  imagine  I  had  human  beings  before 
me  —  at  the  best  they  seemed  like  apes,  for  they 
looked  like  them  !  Their  bodies,  clean  shaven  of  all 
hair,  had  all  the  characteristics  of  the  ape.  Withal 
they  looked  worn  and  badly  nourished.  In  a  word, 
it  was  a  pitiful  sight.  When,  at  the  end  of  the  show, 
I  laid  a  few  dollars  on  the  table,  they  all  thanked  me, 
including  the  old  one,  as  if  I  had  bestowed  a  royal 
gift  on  them. 

I  must  remark  that  the  police  take  rather  rigid 
measures  to  enforce  the  scum  of  the  Chinese  popula- 
tion  to  make  use  only  of  these  Chinese  brothels, 

330 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

because  on  the  American  side  they  fear  that  the 
Chinamen,  by  sexual  connection  with  Americans, 
might  spread  among  them  their  horrible  diseases  such 
as  leprosy,  syphilis,  and  elephantiasis. 

I  know  that  this  night  I  returned  in  the  deepest 
disgust  from  my  visit  to  Chinatown,  and  I  had  only 
gone  there  to  study  the  depths  of  human  vice  and 
destitution.  I  did  not  wonder  so  much  later  on, 
reading  all  the  horrible  deeds  said  to  have  been 
committed  by  the  Chinese  during  the  earthquake, 
for  even  the  lower  classes  of  San  Francisco  behaved 
in  those  days  of  terror  like  wild  beasts — they  could 
not  belie  their  ancestors,  they  remained  "wild 
fellows  "  in  spite  of  the  forty  or  fifty  years  of  civilisa- 
tion they  had  gone  through.  I  could  more  easily 
understand  murders  and  thefts  from  corpses  which  the 
Chinese  committed  during  the  time  of  the  holocaust. 

It  was  otherwise  in  the  dainty,  clean  houses  of  the 
rich  Chinese  and  big  merchants.  I  visited  some  of 
their  warehouses,  and  here  I  was  received  with  all 
token  of  honour  and  esteem.  I  admired  the  gigantic 
bales  of  tea  as  much  as  the  costly  stuffs  and  em- 
broideries. 

I  was  studying  then  for  the  English  stage,  which 
I  wished  to  join,  and  took  lessons  in  the  special 
pronunciation  needed  for  this  with  an  American. 

This  extremely  nice  woman  also  taught  English 
to  the  above-mentioned  two  Chinese  girls;  and  when 
she  heard  how  interested  I  was  in  everything  Chinese, 
she  spoke  of  me  to  the  two  ladies,  and  they  asked  me 
to  accompany  her  there  on  a  visit. 

I  accepted  the  invitation  with  pleasure.  I  found 
two  real  specimens  of  Chinese  ladies,  with  little 
crippled  feet  which  permitted  them  only  a  painful 
and  swaying  gait.  They  were  dressed  in  beautiful 
silken  garments,  had  ugly  yellow  faces,  but  very 
amiable,  educated,  and  civilised  manners. 

The  parlour  in  which  they  received  me  was 
arranged  more  in  American  than  Chinese  fashion,  yet 

331 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

the  matting  on  which  they  squatted  was  not  wanting ; 
there  were  also  low  inlaid  tables,  lovely  embroideries, 
and  nicknacks  of  all  kinds. 

We  conversed  together  quite  pleasantly  for  an 
hour,  and  their  servant  offered  me  tea  and  sweets, 
both  of  which  were  exceptionally  good.  The  prepara- 
tion of  the  tea  was  here,  as  also  in  the  tea-houses, 
totally  different  from  that  which  we  are  used  to,  even 
in  Russia — the  tea-drinking  country  par  excellence. 

The  Chinese  use  no  teapot ;  a  pinch  of  tea  is  put 
into  the  bowls  without  handles,  boiling  water  poured 
upon  it,  another  bowl  placed  quickly  over  it,  and  the 
very  light  and  aromatic  tea  is  then  poured  out  through 
the  chink  of  the  two  bowls  into  a  third  one,  ready  for 
the  purpose,  and  taken  without  any  addition  of  sugar, 
cream,  or  lemon — pure  essence  of  tea. 

My  studies  here  offered  me  a  picture  of  the  far 
East  in  the  extreme  West — interesting  from  many 
points  of  view,  but  on  the  whole  rather  revolting  to 
European  ideas,  especially  at  that  time,  where  one 
had  not  yet  reached  the  "  modern  "  pitch  of  beholding 
the  pink  of  perfection  in  Eastern  art,  but  was  rather 
inclined  to  regard  its  painting,  and  other  creations  of 
its  artists,  more  like  curiosities.  These  one  looked  at 
perhaps  with  a  certain  interest,  but  as  an  outsider,  as 
was  the  case  with  me,  in  the  house  of  these  rich 
Chinese.  Certainly  I  looked  with  interest,  but  with  no 
special  sympathy,  at  their  peculiarities — at  themselves 
and  their  costly  clothing,  their  thousand  valuable 
nicknacks,  embroideries,  and  wood -carvings. 

The  night  in  Chinatown  filled  me  with  such  horror 
even  on  the  following  morning,  that  I  joyfully  agreed 
when  my  old  friend,  Dr.  Ahlers,  proposed  spending 
the  day  in  the  bright,  blossoming  villa  settlement  of 
Oakland.  We  crossed  the  magnificent  arm  of  the  sea, 
and  even  now,  on  looking  back  to  that  day,  my  heart 
is  filled  with  light  and  joy.  It  was  in  truth  a  settle- 
ment of  villas  nestling  in  blossoms.  Yes,  one's 
rejoicing  soul  could  discover  there  everything  that 

332 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

meant  blooms  and  flowers  in  this  world.  Here  were 
palms  and  tea-bushes,  flourishing  side  by  side  with 
every  fruit-tree  as  yet  known  to  us.  The  tiniest 
garden  represented  a  miniature  Eden  illuminated  by 
the  sun  in  the  dark  blue  sky,  the  silver  sea  sparkled, 
and  the  soft  gentle  winds  blew  over  all  this  tropical 
and  northern  flora,  wafting  to  us  with  every  breath  a 
perfume  of  flowers  and  intoxicating  scents. 

How  glad  I  am  that  the  catastrophe  spared  this 
marvellous  corner  of  the  earth,  lovely  Oakland,  and 
that  this  truly  hospitable  land  of  the  gods  could  offer  a 
peaceful  and  protecting  refuge  to  poor  and  trembling 
fugitives  when  this  wonderful  city  was  reduced  in  a 
few  hours  to  dust  and  ashes.  At  that  time,  where  in 
Oakland  only  dainty  villas  rested  in  their  peaceful 
gardens,  it  conjured  up  the  illusion  that  this  restless 
world  still  held  peace  and  true  happiness. 

Directly  after  the  earthquake,  new  business  houses 
sprang  up  and  banks  built  their  branches  here.  In 
the  reports  it  was  said  that  "  Oakland  is  blossoming 
out  1 " 

My  heart  is  almost  as  heavy  at  the  idea  of  this 
as  it  is  at  the  destruction  of  old  "'Frisco."  Once 
more  I  repeat :  Would  that  I  could  show  others  this 
wonderful  creation  of  man,  as  it  then  existed  on  the 
shores  of  the  Pacific  Ocean — just  as  it  was  permitted 
to  me  to  behold  it  at  that  time  !  Everywhere  then, 
in  spite  of  the  elegance  of  the  buildings,  one  saw 
the  naive  want  of  taste  of  its  founders,  and  despite 
the  millions  expended  on  them,  palatial  buildings 
were  placed  side  by  side  with  some  construction 
evolved  from  the  untrained  fantasy  of  its  builder.  I 
cannot  do  it,  for  words  can  paint  but  insufficiently 
that  which  the  enchanted  eye  quickly  communicated 
to  the  receptive  mind. 


333 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

In  describing  all  these  delights  of  California,  I  have 
quite  forgotten  to  talk  of  the  reason  which  actually 
took  me  there.  Let  me  now  say  at  least  a  few  words 
about  it.  The  manager  of  the  German  theatre  there 
was  the  clever  Ottilie  Gende — sister  of  Rudolph 
Gen£e.  She  had  understood  how  to  combine  a  splendid 
ensemble,  composed  of  Germans  who  had  settled  there, 
and  all  kinds  of  first-class  touring  artists,  whom  she 
always  engaged  for  several  months,  as  it  would  other- 
wise not  have  been  worth  while,  considering  the 
expensive  journey. 

She  herself,  a  very  good  actress,  schooled  her 
troupe  dexterously,  and  gave  farces,  comedy,  drama, 
and  also  great  tragedies  in  quite  good  style.  Thus 
the  little  German  art  institute  contributed  greatly  to 
keep  the  German  spirit  in  the  far  West  in  touch  with 
the  literature  of  the  old  country,  and  to  offer  com- 
patriots a  place  where  they  could  regard  each  other 
as  brethren  with  a  common  native  tongue  and  customs. 

Their  theatre  now  also  lies  in  ruins. 

With  a  heavy  heart  I  at  last  left  the  Golden 
Gate  which  had  become  so  dear  to  me. 

Taking  a  final  farewell  of  the  splendours  I  had 
beheld,  I  drove  away  from  eternal  spring  to  the  cold 
bleak  winter  of  Minnesota. 

My  longing,  however,  remained  eternally  with  the 
wonderful  Bay,  and  I  always  hoped  one  day  to  be 
able  to  make  my  beloved  San  Francisco  my  final  home. 
•  •  •  •  • 

334 


THE  AMERICAN  STAGE 

At  that  time,  in  consequence  of  my  stage  triumphs, 
I  had  been  advised  by  English  actors  and  directors  to 
quit  the  German- American  stage,  and  to  devote  my- 
self completely  to  the  art  of  the  English-American 
one,  as  the  celebrated  Fanny  Yanuschek  and  a  Pole — 
Madame  Modjeska — had  done  before  me. 

As  neither  of  these  actresses  spoke  perfect  English, 
but  were  nevertheless  covered  with  gold  and  laurels 
by  the  Americans,  and  as  I,  with  little  study,  could 
easily  acquire  more  perfect  English  than  theirs,  I 
resolved  to  follow  this  well-meant  advice. 

I  was  tired  of  playing  in  the  West  to  a  public 
consisting  of  shoemakers,  brewers  and  bakers,  who 
composed  its  chief  elements,  with  the  few  exceptions 
of  the  more  educated  ones  who  had  drifted  hither 
and  formed  in  St.  Louis  a  little  circle  of  refugees  in 
1848. 

They  were  not  the  people  before  whom  to  play 
drawing-room  roles  and  delicate  French  comedies ; 
they  liked  to  see  me  play  in  my  beautiful  Parisian 
gowns,  but  I  never  got  in  touch  with  them,  as  they 
had  no  understanding  for  the  finer  nuances  with 
which  one  was  able  to  achieve  the  greatest  effect  in 
Berlin  and  Vienna. 

I  evoked  more  applause  with  a  little  shrieking  and 
weeping  than  with  the  cleverest  finesse  in  conversa- 
tion, which  was  my  strong  point. 

We  made  a  little  joke  that  all  these  people  were 
more  at  home  in  a  saloon  than  in  a  salon. 

On  the  English- American  stage  it  is  otherwise. 
Even  there  they  have  no  very  appreciative  public 
for  fine  comedy,  but  in  every  town  of  the  States 
there  is  a  certain  circle  of  educated  people,  large 
enough  to  fill  the  theatres  once  or  twice  a  week. 

The  only  permanent  theatre  existing  at  that  time 
in  the  States  was  in  New  York  City,  where  the 
"star"  system  is  driven  to  its  extreme,  but  where 
there  is  much  money  to  be  made. 

In  these  u  star  ■  companies  there  is,  as  a  general 

335 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

rule,  only  one  actor  and  actress  of  any  note,  the  others 
are  below  mediocrity.  But  among  the  American 
"stars"  I  have  found  some  truly  phenomenal  ones. 
I  consider  Mrs.  Clara  Morris  as  one  of  the  most 
genial  actresses  I  have  ever  seen  on  any  stage  or 
in  any  country.  She  did  not  possess  much  art,  but 
her  passion  was  altogether  elementary.  She  had  a 
power  of  speech  and  gesture  that  carried  one  away, 
although  this  little  woman  was  at  death's  door  with 
spinal  disease  and  consumption. 

She  had  neither  beauty  nor  elegance — only  a  pair 
of  wonderfully  eloquent,  big  grey  eyes,  with  which 
to  conquer  the  hearts  of  the  people. 

Her  genius  simply  overwhelmed  one.  I  have 
never  before  or  since  seen  anything  like  it,  and  yet 
often  in  the  midst  of  a  scene  she  was  obliged  to  stop 
on  account  of  pain ;  a  famous  medicine  was  given 
her,  and  then  she  was  able  to  continue. 

How  one  applauded  her,  and  what  power  she  had 
of  moving  her  public  ! 

I  will  relate  here — even  if  I  anticipate  a  little — 
why  I  gave  up  my  idea  of  entering  into  competition 
with  these  great  English  actresses. 

I  had  already  received  offers  from  several  first- 
class  managers  in  case  I  had  a  repertoire  ready  in  the 
English  language.  I  picked  out  Max  Strakosch, 
who  was  then  the  best  impresario,  and  whom  I  knew 
and  found  very  sympathetic.  We  had  already 
arranged  for  several  tours,  and  I  was  ready  with  a 
number  of  roles.  About  a  year  later  we  sat  in  Herr 
Strakosch's  office  in  New  York  to  sign  the  contract — 
he,  myself,  and  my  husband,  Serge  von  Schewitsch — 
when  the  latter  said  with  his  usual  quiet  manner, 
"  That  is  all  very  well,  but  I  demand  that  my  wife 
returns  to  me  every  six  weeks  for  a  fortnight — other- 
wise I  will  not  give  my  consent  to  the  contract." 
Tableau  !  Then  Strakosch  put  down  his  pen  and  said, 
"  That  ends  the  matter,  for  this  is  as  impossible  as  fly- 
ing.    We  might  be  somewhere  in  the  West,  and  you 

336 


LOVE  OF  DOGS 

would  expect  me  to  bring  back  your  wife  to  her 
spouse's  loving  arms  and  sacrifice  so  many  thousand 
dollars  to  your  heart !  No,  dear  sir  !  "  And  turning 
to  me,  "And  what  does  the  person  most  concerned 
in  the  matter  say  ?  " 

I  laughed  and  said,  "  Very  well,  then,  I  will  wait 
a  little  while.  After  all  I  did  not  come  to  America 
to  make  dollars  and  star  tours ;  but  it  is  right  to 
stay  with  him — therefore  we  will  remain  together, 
and  give  up  the  other  thing." 

AVe  then  wandered  home  happily,  the  poorer  as 
regards  the  dollar  harvest,  but  the  happier  at  heart. 

So  ended  my  English  stage  dream  ! 

I  must  mention  a  little  adventure  which  took 
place  in  San  Francisco. 

I  am,  as  I  often  said,  a  great  lover  of  dogs,  and 
have  a  great  preference  amongst  the  dear  four-footed 
creatures  for  the  breed  of  Skye  terrier,  a  little  dog 
that  comes  from  the  Isle  of  Skye,  to  the  north  of 
Scotland,  with  an  elongated  body.  In  this  it 
resembles  the  dachshund,  as  in  its  whole  build,  its 
crooked  broad  feet,  and  long  head ;  only  the  ears 
stand  upright,  and  the  entire  body  is  covered  with 
beautiful  long,  silky  hair,  which  touches  the  ground, 
and  often  hides  the  eyes  and  nose.  The  Skyes  are 
strikingly  intelligent  and  faithful. 

My  friend  Ahlers  told  me  of  the  possibility  of 
getting  a  blue  one,  that  is,  a  kind  of  grey-blue,  and 
we  drove  to  the  slaughter-house,  as  a  German  butcher 
was  said  to  be  the  happy  possessor  of  it ! 

The  dog  was  charming  and  quite  young,  and  I 
bought  it  for  the  awful  price  of  75  dollars.  The 
master-butcher  said  he  was  delighted  to  make  my 
acquaintance,  after  having  seen  me  on  the  stage,  and 
wishing  to  please  me  said,  "  Had  I  ever  seen  an  ox 
slaughtered  ? " 

"  No,  I  had  not ! " 

To  the  amusement  of  my  friend,  the  gallant 
butcher  forced  me  to  accompany  him  to  his  slaughter- 

337  z 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

house.  I  must  say  I  was  astonished  at  its  large 
scale  and  cleanliness,  also  at  the  absolute  absence  of 
cruelty  of  the  whole  proceeding.  The  floor  and 
walls  were  so  clean  that  one  could  have  taken  one's 
meals  there.  The  animal  (for  only  the  one  condemned 
to  be  slaughtered  was  visible)  was  led  forward  with 
bandaged  eyes ;  one  mighty  blow  of  a  hammer,  and 
it  fell  on  the  ground.  I  sprang  up,  and  did  not  want 
to  look  at  anything  else.  The  butcher  then  told  me 
the  ox  was  completely  senseless,  but  I  refused  any 
more  of  this  form  of  civility,  which  the  doctor 
declared  had  not  yet  fallen  to  the  lot  of  any  stage 
star. 

A  short  time  after  that  my  little  dog  preserved 
me  from  great  danger. 

We  two,  he  and  I,  were  sleeping  quietly  one 
night,  when  I  was  awakened  by  the  low  growling  of 
"Hexi"  (the  little  dog).  I  tried  to  pacify  it,  but 
found  its  whole  body  trembling.  I  thought  of 
burglars,  and  struck  a  light,  but  saw  nothing,  and  the 
little  animal  continued  barking  angrily  at  the  chest 
of  drawers.  What  can  describe  my  horror  when  I 
saw  a  movement  of  the  lid  of  the  case  containing  the 
boa  constrictor  1  I  seized  my  Hexi  and  rushed  out 
of  the  bed  and  room,  shutting  the  door  at  the  very 
moment  that  the  heavy  stone  rolled  on  to  the  ground. 
I  ran  upstairs  in  tearing  haste,  and  knocked  at  Herr 
Fischer's  bedroom  door.  "The  snake,  the  snake! 
Quick,  quick  I"  I  called.  He  answered  leisurely, 
"  Ah,  what  is  it  ? " 

"  It  is  awake  and  coming  out." 

"Impossible!  It  is  asleep  and  cannot  awaken 
yet." 

"  Well,  you  will  see  !     Make  haste  ! " 

He  now  drew  his  enormous  boots  on,  and  seizing 
the  big  leather  sack  used  for  catching  snakes  rushed 
downstairs,  and  arrived  at  the  right  moment  to  catch 
the  monster  in  the  sack  just  when  it  was  letting 
itself  down  from  the  chest  of  drawers  to  the  ground. 

338 


FAREWELL  TO  SAN  FRANCISCO 

Terrible  excitement  prevailed.  The  wife  and  son 
came  as  well,  and  the  explanation  of  the  snake's 
irregular  behaviour  was,  that  I  had  had  a  fire  lit  on 
that  cold  and  rainy  afternoon.  The  warmth  of  the 
fire  had  aroused  the  monster  from  his  winter  torpor, 
and  the  lid  and  stone  proved  too  weak  to  prevent  its 
exit.  Had  it  not  been  for  my  little  dog,  it  is  probable 
that  I  should  have  been  favoured  and  perhaps 
annihilated  by  its  first  embrace. 

And  now  farewell,  heavenly  Bay  of  the  Golden 
Gate  !  The  way  now  lies  eastward  to  the  cold,  grim 
winter  of  Minnesota,  where  a  long  touring  engagement 
calls  me,  which  is  to  end  at  Milwaukee.  But  I  was 
going  as  well  towards  the  reunion  with  my  heart's 
beloved,  Serge. 

He  in  the  meantime  had  experienced  good  and 
bad  times  in  New  York.  The  terrible  news  had 
reached  him  that  the  Tsar  (at  that  time  Alexander 
II.)  had  sequestrated  his  possessions  and  fortune,  and 
that  he  could  not  expect  another  rouble  from  home. 

That  was  a  hard  blow.  It  happened  because  he 
had  left  the  service  of  the  State  without  a  permit, 
and  the  country  without  a  passport.  I  must  at  once 
add  that  after  some  years  his  eldest  brother,  who  was 
Governor  of  Livland,  succeeded  in  getting  the 
sequester  transferred  to  a  guardianship ;  and  as  the 
brother  himself  was  named  guardian,  matters  were 
alleviated  later  on,  thanks  to  this  excellent  man. 
We  had  a  hard  life  during  these  first  years.  It  was 
a  continual  struggle  for  existence,  for  we  could  only 
rely  on  what  we  earned  for  ourselves. 

Serge  had  been  obliged  to  live  most  economically 
for  some  time.  The  Russo-Turkish  war  was  over, 
and  with  it  the  regular  income  he  derived  from  the 
English  papers ;  and  he  was  not  yet  sufficiently 
schooled  in  journalism  to  be  able  to  feel  at  home  in 
all  departments,  after  only  nine  months'  stay  in 
America.     Added  to  this,  he  was   deeply  depressed 

339 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

at  finding  himself  alone  after  all  the  great  sacrifices 
he  had  made,  without  friends,  without  family,  far 
from  home — and  without  the  woman  for  whose  sake 
he  had  left  everything. 

I  read  his  state  of  mind  from  his  letters,  and 
resolved,  therefore,  to  end  this  parting,  which  was 
useless.  We  agreed  to  meet  on  the  way,  and, 
delighted  with  the  prospect,  I  went  to  Chicago. 

On  the  journey  the  beautiful  Salt  Lake  presented 
its  exquisite  picture  to  me  once  more ;  it  was  a  cold, 
clear,  winter  morning,  and  the  lake  lay  in  deepest 
blue,  surrounded  by  snow-tipped  mountains,  which 
were  tinted  by  the  rosy  glow  of  the  rising  sun.  It 
reminded  me  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva  in  clear  winter 
weather.  It  was  on  this  journey  that  I  witnessed  an 
appalling  disaster,  which  I  have  spoken  of  more  fully 
in  my  Theosophical  work,  IVie  ich  mein  Selbstfand, 
which  appeared  under  a  pseudonym,  "Von  einer 
Occultistin." 

A  young  girl  in  our  train  threw  herself  out  of  the 
window  of  the  ladies'  lavatory,  and  was  brought  back 
to  the  sleeping-car  in  a  terrible  condition. 

A  doctor  was  travelling  with  her,  as  she  was 
supposed  to  be  unhinged  in  her  mind.  She  had 
already  tried  to  commit  suicide,  so  the  doctor  told 
me,  because  the  man  she  loved  was  dead.  Her 
parents  were  sending  her  to  relations  in  Chicago  in 
order  to  turn  her  thoughts  to  other  things. 

I  helped  the  doctor  to  bandage  and  put  the 
unfortunate  girl  to  bed,  although  he  shook  his  head 
despairingly  and  said  there  was  nothing  to  be  done. 
The  poor  creature  only  regained  consciousness  after 
some  hours.  Her  first  glance  fell  on  me,  and  perhaps 
that  was  why  she  took  such  a  fancy  to  me.  She 
would  only  take  nourishment  from  me,  and  I  alone  was 
allowed  to  arrange  her  pillows  and  rugs  comfortably 
for  her. 

We  took  her  to  Chicago  in  a  dying  state.  She 
was  suffering  fearful  agony,  and  was  covered  with  one 

340 


AMERICAN  NEWSPAPERS 

of  my  cloaks.  Her  beautiful  large  blue  eyes  rested 
on  me  gratefully.  She  declared  that  since  she  first 
looked  on  me  she  had  felt  bathed  in  light  and  love. 

This  sad  experience  was  effaced  by  the  happy 
meeting,  after  so  many  weeks  of  parting,  with  Serge, 
who  appeared  suddenly  in  my  drawing-room  car  a 
few  stations  earlier  than  I  had  expected. 

He  surprised  me  with  the  news  that  he  could 
remain  with  me  quietly  for  a  long  time,  as  a  secure 
future  lay  before  him. 

It  had  been  decided  in  New  York  to  found  the 
Volkszeitung,  which  even  now  has  such  a  success. 
Serge  was  consulted  about  it,  and  his  eminent 
journalistic  talent  was  quickly  perceived. 

The  first  number  was  to  appear  in  three  months  ; 
and  he  had  been  chosen  as  editor  of  the  Sunday 
paper,  a  speciality  much  favoured  by  all  newspaper 
proprietors,  and  devoted  to  literary  and  artistic 
purposes. 

During  the  week  the  American  has  just  sufficient 
time  to  read  his  personal  telegrams,  but  on  Sunday 
— the  dullest  day  in  all  Anglo-Saxon  countries — he 
wants  to  be  amused  all  day  if  possible  by  his  news- 
paper, hence  the  immense  Sunday  editions,  which 
resemble  a  book. 

The  salaries  of  the  new  undertaking  were  not, 
and  are  not,  exactly  brilliant,  according  to  American 
ideas,  as  the  Volkszeitung  was  founded  by  voluntary 
contributions  from  the  New  York  union  of  German 
workmen,  but  it  seemed  sufficient ;  and  above  all,  at 
first  it  was  a  sure  foundation.  So  we  were  pleased 
in  every  way,  and  calm  and  happy.  There  is  nothing 
very  important  to  relate  of  the  stay  in  Milwaukee. 
I  played  with  tremendous  success  before  crowded 
houses,  and  I  had  something  very  unusual  in  German 
theatres  in  America,  that  is,  excellent  partners  in 
the  acting.  These  were,  Director  Franz  Kirschner 
(formerly  of  the  Hofburg  Theatre  Royal  in  Vienna, 
who  later  on  was  a  favourite  for  many  years  at  the 

341 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

Deutsches  Theater  in  Berlin),  and  Emil  von  der 
Osten,  who  acted  in  Dresden  as  leading  lover,  and 
who  was  one  of  the  handsomest  men  I  remember, 
and  an  amiable  and  talented  artist. 

Our  acting  together  was  so  appreciated  that  at 
the  end  of  the  season  at  Milwaukee  we  resolved 
definitely  to  engage  several  colleagues,  and  tour 
together  as  a  company  in  the  big  cities  of  the  U.S.A. 

We  were  right  in  this,  and  were  rewarded  by  the 
best  of  results. 

This  experience,  despite  its  success,  only  strength- 
ened my  conviction  that,  for  my  temperament,  the 
German-American  stage  was  not  the  right  field. 
The  decision  ripened  in  me  more  and  more  to  go  over 
to  the  English  stage. 

I  appeared  triumphantly  in  Milwaukee  when 
playing  the  part  of  the  Marquise  Pompadour  in 
Narcisse,  and  in  my  mind's  eye  I  saw  myself 
victorious,  and  blessed  with  riches  through  this 
English  career. 

I  have  already  narrated  how  this  dream  ended. 
At  that  time  it  was  still  living,  attracting  me,  and 
elevating  me. 

We  all  went  to  Chicago  and  St.  Louis  in  the  spring. 
Owing  to  the  Exhibition,  Chicago  has  been  so  often 
described  of  late  that  I  can  refrain  from  repetition. 
It  made  on  us,  as  we  did  not  see  it  in  its  exhibi- 
tion array,  quite  a  horrible  impression.  It  is  the 
type  of  everything  that  grates  on  the  nerves  of  the 
refined  European,  and  is  truly  American  in  the  chase 
for  dollars,  in  the  ugliness  of  its  buildings,  the  dirt 
and  noise  of  the  streets ;  everything  in  this  rush  and 
din  is  unaesthetic.  I  was  glad  when  we  got  away  from 
the  chaos  of  this  centre  of  industry,  and  arrived  at 
the  distant,  peaceful  St.  Louis,  situated,  with  its 
charming  parks,  on  the  Mississippi. 

Immediately  on  my  arrival  in  the  hotel  a  porter 
informed  me  that  a  gentleman  had  often  called 
inquiring  for  me,  and  the  day  on  which  I  might  be 

342 


ST.  LOUIS 

looked  for.  The  same  was  repeated  to  me  by  the 
original  theatre  manageress :  "  A  gentleman  had 
several  times  asked  at  the  box-office  if  I  had  not  yet 
arrived  ! " 

I  racked  my  brain  as  to  whom  this  person  might  be, 
for  I  did  not  know  a  single  soul  in  all  these  cities  in 
the  interior  of  the  continent.  Of  course  I  was 
accustomed  to  reporters,  who  often  in  the  middle  of 
a  train  journey  (especially  when  I  was  travelling  from 
San  Francisco)  got  in — took  out  their  instruments  of 
torture,  namely,  pencil  and  paper,  and  in  the  manner 
of  an  inquisition,  put  together  their  interview. 

M  But,"  said  the  manageress,  "  he  did  not  look  like 
an  interviewer." 

I  referred  to  her  before  as  being  "  original,"  and  I 
can  only  pity  all  who  never  saw  her.  She  was  a 
most  worthy  woman,  and  a  good  actress  according  to 
German- American  Western  ideas,  and  her  husband 
was  just  as  remarkable.  Both  of  them  were  like 
figures  out  of  Holtei's  Vagabonds  come  to  life. 

The  Directress  was  a  huge  woman,  dressed  always 
in  flashy  colours  or  bold  tartans.  She  wore  enormous 
hats  enthroned  on  a  mighty  coiffure. 

The  tiny  little  Herr  Director,  with  his  head  of 
long  curly  hair,  generally  wore  a  Spanish  mantle 
thrown  over  his  shoulder  or  hanging  down.  Both  of 
them  had  a  majestic  theatrical  gait,  but,  as  already 
mentioned,  they  were  good-natured  people,  according 
to  Western  convictions,  and  not  unskilful  managers. 

I  was  hardly  established  in  the  hotel  when  the 
waiter  announced  the  gentleman  who  had  so  often 
inquired  for  me. 

On  the  threshold  stood  a  tall  man,  with  snow- 
white  hair  and  beard,  and  large  blue  eyes.  He  made 
a  very  imposing  impression. 

The  large  blue  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  he  looked 
at  me,  and  he  said  in  a  voice  slightly  quivering  with 
emotion,  "  So  this  is  my  little  Helene  ! 

1  must  confess  I  was  in  deep  embarrassment  on 

343 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

seeing  this  old  and  extremely  sympathetic  gentleman 
before  me  thus, — as  I  had  not  the  faintest  idea  who 
he  could  be,  where  he  might  have  come  from,  and 
whence  his  emotion. 

"  My  name  is  Dr.  Nagel,"  he  said.  "  Of  course 
this  name  will  not  convey  much  to  you." 

I  shook  my  head  uncomprehendingly — asked  him 
to  be  seated. 

Now  he  related  that  he  had  been  the  most  intimate 
student  friend  of  my  father,  and  was  as  a  brother  to 
my  mother  ;  and  that  he,  as  assistant  of  our  old  family 
doctor,  had  brought  me  into  the  world  ;  that  later  on 
1  was  his  especial  darling  until  I  was  three  years  of 
age,  and  had  always  called  him  uncle  Pinne — a  student 
nickname  derived  from  Nagel  (nail). 

It  now  flashed  through  my  memory.  Onkel 
Pinne.  "  Oh  yes,  I  know  it  quite  well,"  I  exclaimed, 
44  although  I  ought  to  bear  malice  to  you  for  bringing 
me  into  the  world."  Yet  I  was  delighted  with  all  my 
heart  at  finding  Onkel  Pinne  again !  44  A  thousand 
thanks  for  having  looked  me  up  in  such  a  way  1 " 

Serge  also  greeted  him  just  as  heartily,  and  an 
hour  later  his  whole  family,  which  henceforth  I 
considered  as  my  own,  had  gathered  round  us,  his 
dear  old  wife,  who  also  had  known  me  as  a  baby  ;  her 
only  son,  and  his  charming,  witty,  American  wife. 
From  that  moment  I  was  no  longer  alone  in  America. 
They  considered  themselves  as  belonging  to  me  during 
my  whole  stay  here.  I  should  hardly  have  mentioned 
this  little  episode,  if  Dr.  Nagel's  life  in  America  had 
not  been  such  an  interesting  one.  Now  when  we 
found  the  dear  old  thing  again,  he  was  a  highly 
esteemed  doctor  and  a  rich  man,  who  had  been  living 
for  years  in  St.  Louis  in  his  beautiful  villa  near  the 
park. 

But  he  and  his  wife  had  a  wild  pioneer  existence 
behind  them.  As  quite  young  people  they  had,  when 
I  was  still  a  baby,  emigrated  to  Texas  with  little 
money,  but  much  courage.     He  had  received  a  piece 

344 


DR.  PRETORIUS 

of  land  there  gratuitously  from  the  Government ;  but 
it  was  in  a  wild,  inhospitable  district.  He  himself, 
with  the  help  of  a  neighbour  who  had  come  there  in 
identical  circumstances,  built  a  house,  and  cultivated 
a  portion  of  the  primeval  forest  for  vegetables  and 
potatoes.  The  two  brave  young  Germans  had  lived 
there  alone  for  ten  years.  There  it  was  that  their 
boy  was  born  ;  there  they  taught  him  themselves,  and 
brought  him  up  to  be  a  good  man.  Once  every  year 
the  doctor  rode  into  the  neighbouring  town.  It  was 
a  ride  of  many  days,  and  he  brought  back  a  sack  of 
flour,  a  sack  of  sugar,  and  a  little  clothing  material. 

Everything  else  they  made  themselves.  Yes, 
the  doctor's  wife  even  made  the  shoes  of  the  family 
out  of  bast,  linen,  and  leather  ! 

Now  one  saw  no  trace  of  the  rough  pioneer  life  in 
these  refined  people,  whose  every  thought  was  noble. 
Their  house  was  the  centre  of  all  intellectual  German 
life,  and  first-class  music  was  especially  cultivated  by 
them.  Their  clever,  dainty  little  daughter-in-law  was 
a  piano-player  of  the  highest  order. 

Another  interesting  house  in  St  Louis  was  that 
of  the  editor  of  the  JVestliche  Post,  Dr.  Pretorius, 
a  veteran  of  "forty -eight"  He  collected  in  his 
beautiful  house,  which  also  was  situated  near  the 
park,  chiefly  his  old  compatriots  of  that  time,  many 
of  whom  lived  in  Missouri  city,  and  all  that  was 
artistic  and  intellectual  there. 

I  was  received  by  his  clever  and  cultivated  wife 
with  open  arms.  I  made  the  acquaintance  here  of 
Fritz  Hecker,  the  volunteer  once  so  wild.  He  was  a 
tall,  handsome  old  man,  still  full  of  life,  and  was  one 
of  the  most  eminent  men  I  had  ever  known. 

We  drew  very  near  to  each  other  intellectually, 
and  it  was  he  who  first  advised  me  to  take  up  literary 
work.  At  this  time,  however,  I  had  no  confidence  in 
myself.  Hecker  was  much  respected  and  admired  in 
America  for  taking  part  in  the  Civil  War,  where  he  led 
against  the  Northerners  a  regiment  of  his  own  ;  he  had 

345 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

commanded  himself  until  he  was  severely  wounded. 
Even  in  his  then  advanced  old  age  one  had  to  admire 
his  eloquence. 

I  visited  him  at  his  model  farm,  and  saw  how  the 
"  world-stormer "  had  become  a  world  philosopher, 
and  led  an  enviable  life  without,  however,  withdrawing 
from  his  intellectual  interests,  which  challenged 
collaboration  in  politics  and  literature. 

In  the  hospitable  home  of  Pretorius  I  again  found 
Fanny  Vanuschek,  the  famous  tragedian ;  and  from 
that  time,  in  spite  of  her  great  age,  a  lasting  bond 
of  friendship  sprung  up  between  us. 

She  was  probably  the  most  genial  actress  of  any 
country  in  the  nineteenth  century,  not  even  excepting 
the  aforementioned  American  Mrs.  Clara  Morris, 
who  stood  far  below  Fanny  Vanuschek  in  the 
artistic  world,  and  did  not  possess  the  German's 
charming  voice,  wherewith  to  render  classical  parts 
in  a  similar  way  to  the  great  tragedian. 

Fanny  had  never  been  beautiful,  even  in  her 
youth  —  merely  interesting  ;  but  her  impelling 
presence,  heightened  by  the  power  of  her  genius, 
impressed  every  one  of  the  audience,  as  probably  no 
personality  of  the  stage  has  ever  done  before,  not 
even  excepting  Ristori. 

Let  one  take  into  consideration  that,  at  the  time 
I  am  speaking  of,  Vanuschek  was  well  over  fifty,  and 
at  the  age  of  fifty-three  went  on  the  English  stage, 
learning  English  only  then.  One  always  heard  by 
her  strong  accent  that  she  was  a  foreigner,  but 
nevertheless  she  played  roles  such  as  Medea,  Maria 
Stuart,  Briinnhilde  (in  a  very  poor  translation).  She 
carried  her  American  spectators,  just  as  she  did  us 
Germans,  to  the  wildest  pitch  of  enthusiasm. 
Posterity,  to  which  I  relate  this,  though  it  does  not 
as  a  rule  "  weave  laurels  for  the  minstrel,"  can  have 
no  idea  of  the  all-powerful  genius  of  this  wonderful 
woman. 

Unfortunately  her  fiery  heart   and  temperament 

346 


FANNY  VANUSCHEK 

would  not  learn  that  "  love  "  at  a  certain  time  of  life 
is  not  aesthetic,  and  only  leads  to  unwise  actions. 
She  married  a  man  very  much  younger  than  herself, 
who  ran  through  all  her  considerable  savings.  Even 
then  she  did  not  come  to  her  senses,  so  that,  "outliving 
herself,"  she  was  compelled  to  act  in  minor  theatres 
to  eke  out  her  existence,  and  died  in  extreme  poverty. 


347 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

During  the  first  years  of  my  American  sojourn  I 
went  every  winter  and  spring  on  successful  tours  to 
the  theatres  in  the  West  I  have  already  referred  to. 
My  interest  in  this  flagged,  and  I  devoted  myself 
more  and  more  to  literary  work,  as  Frederick  Hecker 
had  advised  me  to. 

I  wrote  for  all  the  German- American  papers,  and 
published  Meine  Beziehungen  zu  Ferdinand  Lassalle, 
and  my  novel  Countess  Vera  (which  first  appeared 
in  the  New  York  Puck,  and  which  was  brilliantly 
remunerated) ;  also  I  became  a  constant  contributor 
to  the  St.  Louis  WestUche  Post,  and  theatrical  critic 
for  the  New  York  Volkszeitung. 

I  do  not  know  if  I  have  already  mentioned  it,  but 
our  friends  all  tried  to  persuade  Serge  and  myself 
to  get  married,  which  in  America  does  not  require 
much  preparation.  There,  it  is  a  ceremony  that  is 
almost  as  simple  to-day  as  it  was  at  the  beginning 
of  the  nineteenth  century.  In  every  town  and  village 
then  a  certain  stone  was  erected,  before  which  those 
who  resolved  to  get  married  appeared,  and  cere- 
moniously vowed  faithfully  to  cleave  together  and 
protect  each  other  for  better  for  worse,  and  they 
were  considered  as  firmly  bound  as  nowadays  by 
clerical  or  state  bonds. 

So  we  gave  way  to  their  sensible  persuasions  and 
went,  as  we  were  spending  the  summer  in  the  country, 
to  a  judge  there,  who  had  the  same  power  as  any 
priest  or  clergyman  to  solemnise  marriages. 

348 

\ 


MARRIAGE  WITH  SERGE 

There  we  were  united  for  better  for  worse.  The 
ceremony  consisted  merely  of  the  questions  addressed 
to  us  by  the  judge — who  in  our  case  was  an  old  man 
hardly  able  to  write.  He  asked  whether  we  had 
not  already  been  married  elsewhere. 

On  hearing  the  negative  answer,  he  read  a  legal 
paragraph,  which  asks  whether  the  couple  is  agreed 
to  cleave  together  for  better  for  worse,  and  to  promise 
fidelity  and  protection.  They  say  "  Yes,"  and  are 
married.  At  this,  they  receive  a  scrap  of  paper  on 
which  are  written  their  names,  and  those  of  the  judge 
and  two  witnesses  ;  these  one  can  call  in  simply  from 
the  street,  but  in  our  case  the  witnesses  were  our 
intimate  friends  Dr.  Lilienthal  and  his  wife.  The 
Doctor  was  the  most  respected  man  in  New  York. 

This  bald  ceremony  seemed  to  me  very  comical. 
Could  anything,  clerical  or  of  the  state,  knit  us  more 
closely  together  than  our  great  love  ?  It  had  already 
led  us  through  good  and  bad  times,  and  it  now  stood 
even  this  great  test. 

When  now  in  my  old  age  I  look  back  on  that 
bright  summer's  day  in  the  little  village  of  New  Jersey, 
this  is  the  only  pathetic  thing  in  the  whole  of  that  un- 
poetical  wedding  ceremony.  Later  on  this  "wedding" 
led  to  various  unpleasantnesses.     Of  all  this  later. 

When  another  time  I  returned  from  a  town  in 
the  West,  my  husband  told  me  that  during  the 
months  of  my  absence  he  had  struck  up  a  close 
friendship  with  a  strange  old  compatriot  of  his,  who 
would  interest  me  very  much,  a  certain  Helena 
Petrowna  Blavatsky. 

I  discovered  in  her  the  most  remarkable  being 
(for  one  hardly  dare  designate  her  with  the  simple 
name  of  woman).  She  gave  me  new  life  ;  and  indeed  I 
may  say  without  exaggeration  that  she  took  possession 
of  the  age. 

I  have  described  minutely  our  first  acquaintance- 
ship, and  the  time  of  her  first  sojourn  in  New  York 
in  my  book,   Wie  ich  viein  Selbst  fund.      Whoever, 

349 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

therefore,  is  interested  in  this  most  remarkable  of  all 
personalities,  often  styled  the  "  Northern  Sphinx,"  will 
find  details  of  her  in  the  book  just  mentioned.  A 
repetition  of  my  experiences  with  her  would  take  up 
too  much  space  in  this  book,  although  by  rights  the 
very  first  place  is  due  to  her. 

My  connection  with  Ferdinand  Lassalle  was  the 
first  great  event  of  my  life ;  it  transformed  a  young 
girl  who,  although  of  extraordinary  individuality,  was 
bound  at  the  same  time  by  the  closest  family  ties, 
into  a  free,  self-reliant  being,  one  who  was  able 
to  fight  alone  against  the  prejudices  of  the  world.  It 
threw  her,  so  to  speak,  out  of  her  own  path,  where 
birth  and  education  had  placed  her,  and  bestowed  on 
her  a  proud  self- consciousness  and  absolute  self- 
reliance. 

Now  this  wonderful  woman,  Madame  H.  P. 
Blavatsky,  although  altering  nothing  in  my  character, 
by  her  teachings  (this  was  steeled  and  rendered  in- 
flexible in  the  fight  against  conventionalities)  in- 
fluenced me  in  my  views  of  life  and  ideas  on  living. 

She  brought  new  life  and  new  interest  into  my 
existence  by  revealing  to  all  who  had  the  privilege  of 
coming  into  contact  with  her  the  ancient  wisdom 
and  doctrines  of  India  in  its  new  form  of  Theosophy. 
I  do  not  speak  now  solely  of  myself,  but  of  all  those 
who  formed  the  circle  around  Madame  Blavatsky. 

She  undertook,  by  her  fiery  descriptions,  so  full 
of  temperament,  to  illustrate  to  us  the  pure  ethics 
and  doctrines  of  evolution;  to  awaken  our  souls  to 
the  highest  development ;  to  urge  us  toward  the 
discovery  of  the  Godhead  within  ourselves ;  to  foster 
it,  and  thus  to  mature  to  the  highest  spiritual 
development. 

She  taught  us  that  which  all  religious  doctrines 
clothe  merely  in  their  exterior  garment  of  Christianity, 
or  all  philosophies  with  the  jargon  of  their  learned 
teachers  ;  that  which  all  bare  material  sciences  of 
unbelief  had  failed  to  teach. 

350 


MADAME  BLAVATSKY 

It  would  take  volumes  if  I  were  to  write  the 
doings,  life,  and  doctrines  of  this  wonderful  woman. 
I  refer  again  to  my  book  mentioned  previously,  and 
will  quote  here  only  one  passage  from  it : 

Regarding  her  personal  appearance,  the  head,  which  rose 
from  the  dark  flowing  garments,  was  immensely  characteristic, 
although  far  more  ugly  than  beautiful.  A  true  Russian  type, 
with  a  wide  forehead,  a  short  thick  nose,  prominent  cheek-bones, 
a  small,  clever,  mobile  mouth  with  little  fine  teeth,  brown  and 
very  curly  hair,  at  that  time  unstreaked  with  grey  and  almost 
like  that  of  a  negro's ;  a  sallow  complexion,  but  a  pair  of  eyes 
the  like  of  which  I  had  never  seen — pale-blue,  grey  as  water, 
but  with  a  glance  deep  and  penetrating,  and  as  compelling 
as  if  it  beheld  the  inner  heart  of  things.  Sometimes  they 
held  an  expression  as  though  fixed  on  something  afar,  high 
and  immeasurably  above  all  earthly  things.  Large,  long, 
beautiful  eyes,  which  illuminated  the  curious  face.  She  always 
wore  long,  dark,  flowing  garments,  and  had  ideally  beautiful 
hands. 

All  this  describes  the  external  appearance  of 
Helena  Petrowna ;  but  this  was  such  a  secondary 
consideration  with  her,  that  I  give  this  picture  merely 
because,  with  our  clumsy  customs,  we  are  only  able 
to  imagine  a  personality  if  we  can  conjure  up  its 
outward  appearance. 

It  was  easy  enough  to  give  this  exterior  picture ; 
but  how  shall  I  attempt  to  describe  the  woman,  to 
give  an  insight  into  her  being,  her  power,  her 
abilities  and  character  ? 

She  was  a  combination  of  the  most  heterogeneous 
qualities,  and  until  her  departure  from  this  earthly 
sphere,  in  1891,  she  was  attacked  in  the  most 
malicious  manner  by  some  people.  By  others  she 
was  elevated  high  above  everything,  and  by  all  she 
was  considered  as  a  sort  of  Cagliostro  or  St.  Germain. 
She  conversed  with  equal  facility  in  Russian,  English, 
French,  German,  Italian,  and  certain  dialects  of 
Hindustani,  yet  she  lacked  all  positive  knowledge — 
even  the  most  superficial  European  school- training. 

In  matters  of  social  life  she  evinced  a  truly  touching 

351 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

naivete  and  ignorance.  She  possessed  an  irresistible 
charm  in  conversation,  that  comprised  chiefly  an 
intense  comprehension  of  everything  noble  and  great ; 
and  her  really  overflowing  enthusiasm,  joined  to 
the  most  original  and  often  coarse  humour,  was  a 
mode  of  expression  which  was  the  comical  despair  of 
prudish  Anglo-Saxons. 

Her  contempt  for,  and  rebellion  against,  all  social 
conventions  made  her  sometimes  appear  even  coarser 
than  was  her  wont,  and  she  hated  and  fought  conven- 
tional lying  with  real  Don  Quixote -like  courage. 
But  whoever  approached  her  in  poverty  or  rags, 
hungry  and  needing  comfort,  could  be  sure  to  find  in 
her  a  warm  heart  and  an  open  hand — more  than  with 
most  well-mannered,  cultured  people. 

She  and  Colonel  H.  S.  Olcott,  the  most  faithful 
of  all  her  pupils,  lived  strictly  in  accordance  with 
Buddhistic  teachings,  and  were  absolute  vegetarians. 

No  drop  of  wine,  beer,  or  fermented  liquors  ever 
passed  their  lips,  and  she  had  a  most  fanatical  hatred 
of  everything  intoxicating. 

Her  hospitality  was  genuinely  Oriental.  She 
placed  everything  she  possessed  at  the  disposal  of  her 
friends.  With  her  this  was  such  matter  of  course 
that  she  never  pressed  any  one. 

Every  one  who  was  accepted  by  her  as  a  friend 
was  free  to  come  and  stay,  dine,  or  come  and  go  as 
they  pleased.  They  did  in  fact  exactly  as  they  liked 
within  the  limit  of  her  given  possibilities. 

A  little  episode  touching  on  our  intimacy  must  be 
cited  here. 

The  President  of  the  Theosophical  Society  in 
India,  who  held  the  post  for  many  years,  was  at  that 
period  one  of  the  most  respected  lawyers  of  New 
York.  As,  however,  he  devoted  his  entire  interest 
to  Theosophy  and  the  Theosophical  Society  founded 
by  Madame  Blavatsky,  he  lived  under  the  same  roof 
with  this  wonderful  woman. 

One  day  we  sat  altogether  conversing  on  trivial 

352 


A  SARTORIAL  ACHIEVEMENT 

and  more  serious  topics,  when  the  question  arose  as 
to  what  man  was  able  or  unable  to  do. 

I  maintained  one  could  do  anything  one  really 
willed  doing. 

"  Well,"  said  Madame  Blavatsky,  laughing,  "  you 
can't  make  yourself  a  tailor-made  dress." 

"Nor  trousers  for  your  husband,"  added  Olcott, 
and  looked  triumphantly  at  both  of  us  as  if  he  had 
mentioned  something  quite  impossible. 

The  last  idea  put  me  on  my  mettle.  "  Very  well, 
I  shall  try." 

"  Ah,"  added  Olcott,  "  he  must  be  able  to  wear 
them!" 

"  Of  course,"  I  agreed,  to  the  high  amusement  of 
the  Blavatsky,  who  insisted  also  on  the  tailor-made 
costume. 

The  tasks  amused  me  very  much.  Directly  I 
reached  home,  a  pair  of  Serge's  best  trousers,  made 
by  one  of  the  first  Petersburg  tailors,  was  taken  in 
hand  and  carefully  unpicked.  Meanwhile,  I  en- 
grossed myself  entirely  in  this  art,  and  resolved  to 
carry  out  certain  little  tricks  in  combination  with  it. 
For  instance,  to  cut  off  and  re-sew  the  buttonhole 
strip.  I  had  no  money  to  buy  expensive  stuff,  but 
had  a  beautiful  large  English  plaid  shawl  which  in  its 
sober  grey  colour  was  very  suitable  for  an  elegant 
pair  of  trousers. 

The  cutting-out  went  splendidly.  I  did  not  know 
at  that  time  how  to  use  the  sewing-machine.  I 
tacked  the  pieces  1  had  unpicked  exactly  on  those 
I  had  cut  out,  and  undertook  the  troublesome  task  of 
stitching  in  the  same  holes  exactly,  in  order  to  get  the 
new  trousers  the  same  as  the  others.  When,  after 
many  days,  this  gigantic  trial  of  patience  was  ended, 
amid  much  teasing  from  Serge,  the  old  material  was 
cut  away  close  to  the  seam,  all  the  little  threads 
were  removed,  and,  as  I  said  before,  by  using  the  old 
buttonhole  borders  the  trousers  were  completed,  and 
were  a  masterpiece !    My  pride  was  boundless  !    They 

353  2  a 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

fitted  beautifully,  as  well  as  if  they  had  been  turned 
out  by  a  first-class  tailor.  Serge  had  never  pleased 
me  more,  nor  had  he  ever  looked  so  smart.  But — 
unfortunately  there  was  a  "but" — when  he  wanted 
to  put  his  usual  odds  and  ends  into  his  pockets,  there 
were  none  !  Tableau  !  Sold  !  However,  the  pocket- 
less  work  of  art  was  endlessly  admired,  and  Serge 
wore  it  with  pleasure  for  four  years.  Olcott  and 
Blavatsky  were  wide -minded  enough  to  take  no 
notice  of  such  trifles,  and  said  I  was  right — one  could 
do  anything  one  wished  1 

The  tailor-made  gown  for  myself  was  naturally 
child's  play  compared  with  Serge's  trousers.  It  was 
of  blue  cloth,  made  from  an  unpicked  Paris  model,  and 
reached  the  highest  perfection.  My  dear  Blavatsky 
and  others  declared  I  had  never  had  a  dress  that  fitted 
me  so  well. 

Well !  this  little  episode  and  the  praise  of  my 
friends  had  very  useful  consequences  for  me.  Since 
that  time,  and  to  this  day,  I  have  made  everything 
I  wear  myself,  from  the  most  dainty  underlinen 
to  the  most  complicated  visiting-gowns,  have  never 
utilised  the  services  of  a  tailor  or  dressmaker  since, 
and  am  considered  an  elegant  and  well-dressed 
woman. 

I  therefore  owe  to  this  remarkable  friend,  Helena 
Petrowna  Blavatsky,  not  only  my  mental  and 
theosophical  development,  but  also  this  practical  and 
most  valuable  initiation  into  the  arrangement  of  my 
entire  wardrobe. 

A  year  which  we  passed  together  in  intimate 
friendship  made  me  conversant  with  the  fundamental 
traits  of  the  oldest  doctrine  preached  in  a  new  form ; 
and  from  year  to  year  it  has  become  more  and  more 
the  aim  and  object  of  my  life. 

Then  the  "  Sphinx  of  the  North "  went,  with  a 
few  of  her  followers  (among  whom  was  the  New  York 
lawyer  Olcott),  to  India — where  Olcott  has  settled  as 
President  of  the  Theosophical  Society,  and  where  he 

354 


A  NOBLE  WORK 

has  become  almost  entirely  a  Hindu  in  manners  and 
customs. 

I  saw  them  both  depart  with  a  heavy  heart.  How 
gladly  I  would  have  joined  them,  and  gone  with  these 
two  wonderful  people  to  the  wonderland  of  India ; 
but  our  circumstances  then  bound  us  to  New  York. 

One  of  the  most  lasting  impressions  of  my  sojourn 
in  America  I  owe  to  my  old  friend  Charles  Dawbarn, 
of  whose  rare  qualities,  inclining  to  occultism,  I  have 
spoken  in  my  book,  TVie  ich  mein  Selbstfand.  One 
day  he  asked  me  if  I  would  like  to  meet  his  old 
comrade  Mrs.  Smith,  who  lived  only  a  few  doors  from 
us.  The  very  common  name  conveyed  nothing  to 
me,  but  I  replied,  "  If  this  is  your  friend — certainly, 
for  then  she  must  be  an  unusual  person." 

"  So  she  is,  and  as  regards  unusual  kindness  and 
charity  there  is  no  one  like  her  in  the  world  ;  but  if 
we  go,  please  don't  be  horrified  at  her  surroundings. 
She  only  lives  for  them.  You  will  find  this  old 
woman,  who  is  nearly  eighty  years  of  age,  in  the 
midst  of  most  remarkable  beings.  I  will  not  say 
more,  you  will  see  the  rest  yourself." 

Of  course  I  was  very  curious,  and  we  went  round 
to  Mrs.  Smith. 

The  little  negress,  peculiar  to  all  American  houses 
of  the  middle  class,  opened  the  door.  "Yes,  Mrs. 
Smith  was  at  home  with  all  the  little  ones  1 " 

At  the  same  moment  we  heard  weird  guttural 
sounds,  more  like  animals  than  human  beings.  We 
were  shown  into  a  very  large  parlour  where  the  old 
woman  was  surrounded  by  fifteen  or  sixteen  little 
creatures,  who  at  first  sight  looked  most  startling. 
My  friend  Dawbarn  had  prepared  me,  therefore  I 
concealed  my  uneasiness,  and  looked  at  the  sympa- 
thetic old  woman  who,  with  a  most  kindly  smile, 
stretched  out  her  hand  and  welcomed  me  into  the 
circle  of  her  protegees,  who  were  outcasts — poor 
outcast  protegees  1  I  looked  at  the  crowd  of  little 
ones,  whose  ages  varied  from  three  to  twelve,  and 

355 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

now  discovered  by  the  lifeless  expression  of  their 
glassy  eyes  that  the  poor  things  were  blind.  Mrs. 
Smith  saw  that  I  sympathised,  and  added  at  once : 

"  Oh,  blindness  is  not  the  worst  calamity  !  They 
are  all  idiots,  deaf  and  dumb,  and  some  of  them,  as 
you  see,  cannot  walk — only  crawl." 

I  was  quite  moved,  and  asked  shudderingly, 
"What  do  you  do  with  them?"  The  old  woman 
replied,  "  Well,  I  simply  make  human  beings  out  of 
them."  She  told  the  apparently  eldest  child — a  girl 
of  eleven  or  twelve — to  come  to  her  (all  of  them 
were  scrupulously  clean),  and  then  asked  me,  "  Will 
you  allow  Lizzie  to  touch  you  ? "  I  looked  at  the 
child  a  little  uneasily,  but  nevertheless  nodded. 

Mrs.  Smith  took  the  child's  hand,  laid  it  on  her 
mouth,  and  said  slowly,  "  Tell  me  what  the  lady 
looks  like,"  tapping  at  the  same  time  like  a  typist  on 
Lizzie's  other  hand.  The  latter  seemed  to  under- 
stand. Her  features — so  blunted  and  animal — lit  up. 
She  blinked  with  her  sightless  eyes,  and  seemed  to 
scent  my  presence,  so  to  speak,  like  a  dog.  She 
came  straight  up  to  me  in  the  familiar  room,  placed 
her  hand  on  my  face,  felt  all  over  it,  then  said  in  the 
deep,  guttural  tones  with  which  deaf  and  dumb 
people  generally  ejaculate,  "  Fine,  soft,  big-eyed, 
good." 

My  horror  had  given  way  to  lively  interest.  I 
was  astonished,  and  could  not  find  words  to  express 
my  admiration  for  this  dear  old  lady,  who  made  out 
of  the  miserable  semi -animals  before  me  beings 
which  had  at  least  arrived  at  a  degree  of  intelligence, 
and  restored  the  use  of  those  senses  that  nature  had 
entirely  closed  to  them. 

Only  think — not  only  blind,  not  only  deaf  and 
dumb — no,  these  wretched  children  were  likewise 
idiots  !  The  smallest  of  them  gave  distinct  evidences 
of  this,  and  by  its  absolutely  animal  gestures  proved 
what  a  colossal  work  Mrs.  Smith  had  already  achieved 
in  the  most  advanced  one. 

356 


THE  CARE  OF  MUTES 

About  five-and-twenty  years  later,  the  wonderful 
book  was  published  treating  of  Helen  Keller,  who, 
according  to  my  opinion,  is  the  greatest  human 
phenomenon.  Her  splendid  teacher,  Miss  Sullivan, 
relates  here  what  enormous,  almost  unimaginable, 
difficulties  had  to  be  surmounted  in  order  to 
humanise  little  Helen  Keller,  who  was  blind,  deaf, 
and  dumb ;  but  as  she  is  one  of  the  most  intelligent 
beings  on  earth,  one  could  almost  conceive  her  to  be 
endowed  with  a  sixth  sense — intuition.  It  is  well 
known  that  in  her  twentieth  year  she  became  a 
doctor  of  philosophy  at  the  Radcliffe  University. 
The  spirit  world  lived  within  her — she  only  had  to 
be  taught  how  to  enter  and  move  in  it.  Then  she 
swam  there  lightly  and  happily,  like  the  trout  in  a 
mountain  stream,  as  if  she  were  in  her  own  element. 

Mrs.  Smith's  unhappy  pupils  were,  and  remained, 
idiots.  Nevertheless,  this  human  angel  transformed 
them  by  love  and  patience  into  beings  capable  at 
least  of  manual  aid,  fit  to  be  taken  in  by  kind  families, 
of  which  there  are  more  in  America  than  in  Europe. 
Here  one  finds  a  truly  Christian  spirit,  a  Christlike 
sympathy  as  well  as  real  broad-minded  charity,  which 
does  not  content  itself  solely  with  doing  good,  does 
not  cease  to  succour  need  and  outward  necessity,  but 
renounces  its  own  comfort  in  self-sacrificing  patience 
by  taking  such  poor,  unhappy  outcasts  into  their 
midst  and  tending  them. 

After  Mrs.  Smith's  death,  these  poor  creatures 
were  all  divided  among  charitable  families  in  the 
manner  described. 

The  remembrance  of  this  noble  old  woman  and 
her  pupils  remains  one  of  my  most  touching  and 
elevating  memories. 

As  already  related,  several  well-known  doctors 
belonging  to  our  intimate  circle  had  come  to  America 
almost  without  means,  and  at  the  time  we  knew 
them  were  more  or  less  wealthy  people.  Riches  are 
the  alpha  and  omega  of  American  existence  ;    and 

357 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

as  neither  Serge  nor  I  found  long  sedentary  work 
suited  us,  both  of  us  were  advised  by  our  doctor 
friends  to  study  medicine,  and  then,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  very  famous  couple,  Dr.  Jacoby  and  his  wife,  to 
practise  together  and  earn  money. 

I  was  enthusiastic  at  the  thought  of  this  plan.  I 
had,  as  one  may  remember,  even  as  a  child,  always 
taken  a  lively  interest  in  natural  sciences,  and  this 
had  been  refreshed  by  Professor  Semper.  I  made 
my  preparations,  matriculated  at  the  New  York 
University  for  Women,  and  studied  for  four  years 
with  the  greatest  zeal.  In  the  meantime  I  made 
little  trips  to  other  universities  —  for  instance,  the 
Homeopathic  and  the  Electric — in  order  to  become 
familiar  with  the  different  methods. 

It  was  an  enlightening  and  a  busy  time  for  me. 
After  six  months  Serge  gave  up  the  whole  thing, 
and  devoted  himself  more  and  more  to  active  political 
work. 

At  that  time  (I  do  not  know  if  this  has  since 
changed),  the  teaching  in  the  American  universities 
resembled  that  of  the  European  gymnasia  more  than 
that  of  our  universities. 

First  and  foremost,  entrance  to  the  same  is  only 
conditional  on  the  very  simplest  Board  School  educa- 
tion. There  is  an  entrance  fee  of  about  two  hundred 
dollars,  and  quite  a  primitive  examination  to  pass. 
One  is  accepted  if  one  can  read,  write,  reckon,  and  if 
one  knows  a  little  American  history  and  geography. 
One  can  then  attend  all  lectures,  and  can  also  take 
a  place  at  once  in  the  operating-rooms.  During 
the  first  half-year  one  studies  physics,  chemistry, 
botany,  materia  medica,  theoretical  anatomy,  and 
physiology. 

The  method  would  be  an  impossible  one  in  our 
universities.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  rather  a 
strict  control  (in  many  colleges  by  calling  out  the 
names),  to  find  out  if  one  attends  the  lectures  regu- 
larly, and   only  serious   reasons  are  accepted  as  an 

358 


AT  NEW  YORK  UNIVERSITY 

excuse.  Secondly,  in  real  American  fashion,  all 
practical  studies  are  pursued  immediately  ;  chemistry, 
physics,  and  also  anatomy — the  latter  demonstrated 
from  the  first  upon  corpses.  Thirdly,  in  every 
lecture  a  certain  proportion  of  printed  matter  is 
given  as  a  task  to  learn  by  heart.  Whoever,  then,  is 
called  up  to  repeat  it  must  know  it.  Of  course  a 
good  memory  for  words  plays  a  big  part  in  this. 
Therefore  no  knowledge  of  Latin  is  necessary.  The 
student  has  to  learn  the  Latin  names  together  with 
anything  else  that  is  new  to  him.  How  and  whether 
he  will  pass  the  examination,  is  entirely  his  own 
affair  ;  this  is  according  to  the  real  American 
principle  that  every  one  is  the  author  of  his  own 
good  fortune.  If  fundamental  education  be  wanting, 
he  must  acquire  it — how,  nobody  cares !  Therefore 
in  such  colleges  all  classes  are  represented,  from  the 
peasant  to  the  son  of  the  President — nearly  all  with 
the  same  preparation  of  the  big  but  excellent  Board 
School. 

I  must  add  one  other  thing.  In  the  American 
universities  a  great  deal  more  work  is  done  than  in 
Germany.  The  respect  every  American  has  for 
money,  and,  in  consequence,  for  time,  impels  him  to 
employ  every  minute  of  the  highly  paid  educational 
period  (four  years'  study  are  obligatory)  with  the 
greatest  zeal. 

There  is  no  student  life  as  we  understand  it ;  and 
most  of  the  students  are  abstainers.  There  are  no 
unions  or  beer  meetings  ;  hardly  any  of  the  students 
know  each  other  beyond  the  superficial  acquaintance 
of  the  lecture-room.  At  most,  one  or  two  of  the 
poorer  ones  join  forces  and  live  together,  in  which 
case  they  share  the  same  bed.  Total  strangers,  there- 
fore, are  often  forced  into  this  most  intimate  com- 
panionship— a  thing  which,  according  to  our  custom, 
is  quite  unheard  of. 

In  all  such  "  natural "  things,  the  Americans, 
especially  those  from   the   country,  have   childishly 

359 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

naive  ideas,  whereas  in  other  matters  they  are  over- 
prudish. 

Fate  again  stopped  my  plans.  Just  before  I  was 
to  go  up  for  my  examination  as  doctor,  I  became  so 
ill  that  I  was  in  bed  for  many  months,  and  unable  to 
study.  My  medical  friends  told  me  I  must  have  the 
courage  to  give  up  the  idea  of  becoming  a  doctor,  as 
in  the  broken-down  state  of  my  health,  which  was 
then  recognised,  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  practise. 

I  renounced  my  pet  idea — that  of  becoming  a 
great  lady  doctor — with  a  heavy  heart,  for  I  had  an 
exceptional  position  at  the  High  School  where  I 
studied.  I  possessed  the  gift  of  rapid  and  sure 
diagnosis,  and  for  many  years  had  been  called 
"doctor"  by  the  professors.  They  were  not  accus- 
tomed to  have  any  one  before  them  with  such  a  first- 
class  education  and  general  knowledge  as  "Dr. 
Schewitsch." 

I  must  say  that  as  regards  the  class  of  women 
who  studied  medicine  with  me,  ninety  per  cent  of 
them  became  mostly  higher  class  mid  wives ;  the 
remainder,  however,  eminent  doctors. 

I  recall,  for  instance,  a  fair,  delicate  little  woman, 
who,  on  completion  of  her  studies,  was  elected 
dissector  at  the  University,  and  another  who  entered 
into  competition  with  four  young  doctors,  and  was 
elected  for  the  post  of  head  house  doctor  at  the 
big  German  Hospital.  They  won  their  position  by 
absolute  superiority. 

There  are,  or  there  were  then,  in  New  York, 
several  women  whose  names  were  equal  to  those  of 
the  first  men  doctors — particularly  in  the  speciality 
of  children,  women,  and  nerve  doctors.  It  had  been 
my  intention  to  take  up  lung  and  heart  diseases. 

In  concluding  this  episode,  I  must  mention  that 
I  should  be  untruthful  if  I  were  to  say  that  the 
prejudice  against  women  students  is  on  the  whole 
less  in  America  than  it  is  in  Europe.  As  illustration 
of  this  let  one  example  be  given. 

360 


CLINICAL  STUDY 

The  big  cliniques  of  the  New  York  hospitals  are 
perhaps  the  most  unique  in  the  world.  Here,  during 
the  course  of  the  year,  one  can  see  every  illness  that 
suffering  humanity  is  forced  to  bear. 

Through  the  active  ship  transport  from  all  parts 
of  the  world,  there  are  always  some  cases  of  the  rarest 
maladies,  even  those  of  savages,  side  by  side  with 
the  usual  visitations  of  civilised  people.  For  the 
student,  the  material  here  was  both  uncommon  and 
valuable.  Members  of  other  colleges  had  received 
invitations  to  visit  these  cliniques.  The  New  York 
Hospital  possesses  its  own  magnificent  University, 
founded  by  the  millionaire  Vanderbilt.  Our  pro- 
fessors had  advised  us  to  take  advantage  of  this 
opportunity,  and  we  did  not  allow  it  to  be  said  in 
vain.  Several  ladies  visited  the  cliniques  with  me 
regularly. 

Upon  our  entrance,  we  distinctly  noticed  how 
different  the  various  students  were  in  their  manner, 
and  also  the  demonstrating  professors.  Some  of 
them  were  cool  and  brusque,  to  the  verge  of  rudeness; 
others,  again,  particularly  amiable  and  obliging,  offer- 
ing the  ladies  the  most  advantageous  places  for  seeing 
and  hearing,  and  behaving  in  the  most  comradelike 
way. 

We  proved  ourselves  very  modest  in  dress,  be- 
haviour, and  speech,  feeling  ourselves  like  guests  on 
sufferance. 

After  my  medical  dream  was  over,  I  turned  to 
sundry  other  occupations. 

I  wrote  for  newspapers,  indeed  I  had  never  given 
this  up,  and  composed  my  great  novel  E?*erbtes  Blut, 
published  by  Hugo  Steinitz,  Berlin.  I  painted  a 
great  deal,  an  occupation  I  arrived  at  in  an  original 
manner,  and  also  I  gave  lessons  in  foreign  languages. 

My  painting  began  in  this  way. 

After  my  recovery  from  the  severe  illness,  I  had 
sprained  my  foot,  and  was  condemned  to  lie  still  for 
weeks  and  do  nothing.     I  felt  this  very  keenly,  as 

361 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

I  had  been  accustomed  to  work  from  seven  in  the 
morning  until  seven  at  night  at  all  sorts  of  things. 

Then  an  acquaintance  said  to  me,  "Why  don't 
you  paint  ?     You  can  do  that  even  whilst  lying  down." 

I  said,  "  Why  don't  I  fly  ? — I  shouldn't  want  my 
feet  for  that.     It  is  because  I  can't" 

"  Oh,  you  can  do  everything,"  she  said. 

"  A  good  deal — yes  !  But  not  paint !  I  have 
never  learnt  drawing  or  painting." 

That  night  I  had  a  dream.  Wilhelm  von  Kaul- 
bach  stood  before  me,  held  a  palette  in  his  hand,  and 
said,  "  Only  paint,  and  I  will  show  you  how  to  hold 
the  brush,  and  how  to  put  the  colours  properly  on 
the  palette."  He  did  this,  I  paid  good  attention  to 
it,  awoke,  and  said  to  my  husband,  "  Please  go  at 
once  and  buy  me  such  and  such  colours,  paint  brush, 
and  palette."  I  remembered  the  list  of  colours  from 
my  dream. 

Serge  looked  at  me  at  first  as  if  I  had  gone  mad, 
but  I  told  him  everything.  He  bought  the  painting 
utensils,  and  I  painted.  The  first  thing  I  did  (with- 
out drawing  first,  that  is,  I  fell  to  work  at  once  with 
the  brush)  was  a  large  basket  of  flowers.     How  ? 

First  of  all  I  finished  the  basket  on  canvas  (I 
painted  first  in  oils),  then,  just  as  one  would  have 
done  in  reality,  I  filled  it  with  flowers,  finishing  each 
one  entirely  before  commencing  another.  The  result 
was  that  many  artists  said  it  was  impossible  that 
I  had  never  painted  before. 

I  then  studied  a  few  weeks  with  a  lady  who  was 
a  leading  water-colour  painter  of  flowers,  and  after 
that  I  earned  a  lot  of  money  in  America  with  my 
newly  acquired  art.  Thus  1  found  one  occupation 
after  another,  and  with  every  new  year  I  took  to 
myself  a  new  "  sense,"  as  I  termed  it,  by  entering 
new  paths  of  science  which  hitherto  had  been  closed 
to  me. 

If  my  health  had  not  always  hindered  me  so  much, 
I  might  have  accomplished  many  beautiful  things. 

362 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  my  main  interest  was 
the  man  for  whose  sake  I  had  given  up  Europe  and 
everything  there — Serge,  my  husband.  He,  during 
the  long  years  yonder,  had  developed  into  one  of  the 
best-known  men  in  the  States,  and  principally  as 
the  people's  orator  in  German,  as  well  as  in  English. 
He  knew  the  latter  so  perfectly  that  at  Harvard 
University  a  celebrated  professor  declared  that "  Serge 
von  Schewitsch  was  one  of  the  best  and  finest  scholars 
of  the  English  language  in  America." 

It  was  wonderful  and  at  the  same  time  interesting 
in  the  highest  degree,  to  see  how  he,  who  in  daily  life 
is  one  of  the  most  silent  and  reserved  of  all  the  men 
I  ever  knew,  developed  into  a  burning,  enthusiastic, 
inspired  and  inspiring  orator  as  soon  as  he  had  a 
large  crowd  of  people  before  him. 

His  interests  all  lay  in,  and  were  entirely  devoted 
to,  the  people's  party. 

He,  the  born  aristocrat,  was,  like  so  many  Russians 
— I  refer  to  Prince  Kropotkin  and  Alexander  von 
Herzen  among  others — heart  and  soul  a  social  demo- 
crat. His  gagged  and  martyred  country  had  moved 
his  soul  to  the  deepest  compassion  by  its  sufferings, 
and  had  formed  a  glowing  hatred  within  him  against 
all  oppression. 

Let  one  example  among  many  suffice  here  to 
illustrate  the  power  his  speech  and  personality  ex- 
ercised upon  great  masses.  He  was  literally  adored 
by  the  American  "people,"  and  during  the  twelve 

363 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

years  we  had  spent  there,  had  made  himself  quite  a 
unique  and  curious  position.  One  can  imagine  how 
the  opposite  party  used  his  aristocratic  birth,  his 
distinguished  and  elegant  appearance,  and  the  palpable 
evidences  of  the  Russian  aristocrat,  as  a  reproach  and 
as  stimulating  accusation  against  him.  But  his 
"  people  "  stood  by  him  faithfully. 

It  once  happened  that  a  great  public  open-air 
meeting  was  held  by  the  people  in  the  gigantic  Union 
Square.  It  treated  of  the  great  movement  which 
was  headed  at  that  time  by  Henry  George,  repre- 
sentative of  Land  Reform. 

In  the  year  1886  the  entire  socialist  party 
was  one  with  Henry  George,  only  to  separate 
from  him  in  1887,  as  his  ultimate  aims  differed 
from  their  own.  Great  debates  often  took  place, 
and  one  of  them  was  held  in  the  biggest  theatre  in 
New  York,  when  Serge  von  Schewitsch  triumphed 
in  a  splendid  speech  over  the  equally  eloquent  Henry 
George.  Only  a  few  weeks  divided  that  evening  meet- 
ing in  the  Union  Square  from  this  evening  s  battle  of 
eloquence.  It  had  reference  to  an  election  campaign. 
I  had  gone  there  to  hear  my  husband  speak,  and  found 
myself  with  him  on  the  platform.  Was  it  due  to  my 
excitement  ?  I  suddenly  felt  very  unwell,  so  that, 
by  the  time  he  had  finished  his  great  address  to  the 
mass,  numbering  perhaps  12,000,  I  begged  him  to 
take  me  back  to  our  not  very  distant  home. 

We  had  been  walking  for  about  ten  minutes  when 
faintness  overcame  me,  and  we  had  to  sit  down  on 
a  bench. 

Then  crowds  of  people  flew  wildly  past  us,  and 
a  loud  noise  penetrated  to  us  from  Union  Square. 

Serge  sprang  up,  and  inquired  excitedly  of  the 
people  running  past  the  cause  of  their  flight  They 
answered  in  anxious  haste — "Police!  disturbance! 
clubbing ! " 

We  understood  at  once,  and  jumped  up  from  our 
seats.      My   fatigue    disappeared,   and    I   looked   at 

364 


THE  POWER  OF  ELOQUENCE 

Serge,  who  in  the  greatest  excitement  exclaimed, 
"  Now  we  must  go  back — you  must  be  strong  enough, 
for  I  must  prevent  grave  disaster." 

That  I  was  so  need  scarcely  be  said.  We  flew 
towards  the  Square,  on  to  the  platform,  and  Serge 
to  the  railing,  shouting  to  the  terrible  tumult  raging 
in  the  masses  below,  "  Calm  !  Moderation  !  I  am 
here ! " 

The  noise  ceased  at  once ;  one  heard  voices  calling, 
"  Schewitsch  is  here,  Schewitsch  is  going  to  speak ! 
Silence." 

And  now  he  held  this  wildly  indignant  mass 
spellbound  by  his  eloquence,  calmed  the  raging  furies, 
and  by  this  prevented  bloodshed  which,  without  his 
intervention,  would,  with  absolute  certainty,  have 
taken  place.  He  ordered  the  people  to  keep  quiet, 
not  to  defend  themselves  against  the  brutality  of  the 
police,  but  to  break  up  without  demonstration  and 
go  home.  Rejoicings  as  deafening  as  the  previous 
indignation  rang  out  among  the  masses,  "  Long  live 
Schewitsch  1  Schewitsch  is  right  1 "  Then  all 
happened  as  he  had  wished ;  the  populace,  though 
still  murmuring,  dispersed,  leaving  the  police  there 
as  inactive  lookers-on.  But  what  had  happened  to 
provoke  all  these  wild  scenes  ? 

One  knows,  and  everybody  then  knew,  that  in  free 
"Republican  America,"  all  those  who  think  other- 
wise than  those  in  power  find  there  is  nothing  more 
brutal,  more  corrupt,  than  the  New  York  police. 
Revolvers  are  only  used  in  extreme  cases,  but  with 
their  clubs  (terribly  long  weapons  which  are  made 
of  oak-wood  and  slung  to  leather  straps)  they 
inflict  the  most  horrible  wounds,  and  hew  down 
mercilessly  children,  women,  and  defenceless  men. 
They  can  vie  well  with  the  notorious  Russian 
Cossacks. 

The  quite  harmless  election  meeting  had  been 
denounced  as  "dangerous"  at  headquarters,  and  an 
"army"  of  one  hundred  to  two   hundred   men   of 

365 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

these  armed   police  had  been  dispatched  to  "club" 
the  masses  asunder. 

The  danger  was  that,  as  many  people  in  America 
always  carry  loaded  revolvers  upon  them,  the  men, 
heated  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the  speeches,  would  not 
remain  calm  at  this  villainous  attack  on  their  women 
and  children,  and  might  have  had  recourse  to  their 
fire-arms. 

My  husband  had  prevented  this  by  the  power 
of  his  eloquence,  and  by  the  magnetism  of  his 
personality.  As  I  have  said  before,  I  have  no 
political  vein  in  me.  Nevertheless,  I  was  completely 
enthralled  by  him,  and  proud  of  the  hero  of  the  hour. 

There  were  many  such  moments  in  American 
life,  so  that  when  we  left  the  country  after  twelve 
years'  sojourn,  the  working  people  saw  him  depart 
with  great  grief,  and  keep  him  to  this  day  in 
enthusiastic  remembrance. 

I  do  not  wish  to  describe  my  husband  merely  as 
a  great  man  of  the  people,  as  a  clever  orator  and 
journalist,  but  also  as  a  passionate  lover  who  fears 
no  sacrifice.  He  is  the  same  even  to-day,  if  with 
brief  intervals.  I  say  with  brief  intervals,  because 
the  same  thing  applies  to  him  as  to  most  people. 
One  can  love  for  ever — but  with  interruptions.  One 
must  bridge  over  the  pauses  with  a  love  that  sur- 
mounts everything,  that  covers  everything,  and  is 
victorious  over  everything. 

Once  in  summer,  wishing  to  escape  from  the 
burning  heat  of  New  York,  I  stayed  on  the  beautiful 
sea-coast  of  Long  Branch,  which  was  still  a  very 
fashionable  place.  As  Serge  was  editing  the  New 
York  Volkszeitung,  he  was  often  unexpectedly 
detained  from  meeting  me  at  the  time  we  had 
arranged. 

Long  Branch  can  be  reached  either  by  train  or 
boat  in  about  two  hours ;  trains  and  steamers  do 
not  run  very  frequently,  but  are  extremely  punctual. 
It  often  happened  that  for  hours  or  days  we  could 

366 


NEW  YORK  REMINISCENCES 

not  be  together,  and  then  when  we  did  meet  we 
made  the  best  of  our  time,  and  no  barriers  existed  for 
the  Weltstiirmer. 

I  had  received  a  telegram,  "I  am  coming  for 
certain. — Serge."  The  train  arrived — no  Serge.  I 
began  to  get  terribly  excited,  when  friends  who  were 
living  with  me  consoled  me  with  the  remark  that 
the  steamer  was  not  yet  due.  However,  this  did  not 
bring  me  my  loved  one,  and  I  was  beside  myself, 
weeping  and  terrified,  when  suddenly  he  stood 
before  me  1  He  had  come  upon  the  engine  of  a 
goods  train ;  no  others  were  running,  and  he  induced 
the  engine-driver  to  bring  him  by  telling  him  that 
his  "sick  wife  was  expecting  him." 

The  sympathetic  American  allowed  him  to  stand 
by  his  side,  and  the  usually  elegant  cavalier  came  to 
my  arms  black  and  covered  with  soot. 

I  passed  another  summer  at  Rockland  Lake, 
charmingly  situated  on  the  Hudson.  There  two 
similar  desperate  arrivals  took  place. 

One  Sunday  I  expected  Serge  and  an  intimate 
woman  friend  to  dinner.  The  place  is  an  hour  and 
a  half  distance  by  rail  from  New  York,  on  the  right 
side  of  the  Hudson,  and  situated  on  an  incline.  I 
went  to  the  station  in  a  carriage  to  fetch  them  both. 
When  they  got  out  I  was  struck  at  once  by  the  tired 
and  heated  appearance  of  my  husband.  My  friend 
exclaimed  whilst  we  were  still  embracing,  "You 
ought  to  scold  him  well  instead  of  kissing  him.  He 
has  done  something  dreadful." 

"  What  has  happened  again  ? "  I  asked  uneasily. 

Serge  was  making  signs  to  her  to  be  quiet,  but 
she  continued,  "  From  Hoboken  to  *  *  *  he  ran 
after  the  train  at  a  terrible  pace  for  over  half  an  hour, 
and  jumped  into  it  in  a  tunnel,  where  it  always  halts 
a  few  minutes.  His  appearance  was  such  that  I 
hardly  recognised  him,  and  of  course  he  is  half  dead. 
I  was  afraid  he  would  have  a  fit." 

I  looked  at  my  Serge  in  horror,  but  he  laughed 

367 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

and  said,  "Yes,  but  I  should  not  have  been  able  to 
come  otherwise,  and  you  would  have  been  frightened 
to  death.  The  train  went  off  under  my  nose.  I 
reckoned  on  its  slower  pace  up  the  Hudson  Hill,  and 
on  the  few  minutes'  delay  before  the  tunnel ;  and  as 
I  am  here,  you  see  I  calculated  well/' 

Another  time,  at  the  same  place,  Serge  was  only 
able  to  take  the  train  that  left  on  the  opposite  shore 
of  the  Hudson.  Here  there  was  no  communication 
across  the  river,  which,  where  I  was,  was  very  broad. 
It  was  noon  and  one  of  those  burning  hot  days 
known  only  in  New  York,  which  are  feared  even  by 
the  Brazilians  there. 

No  hindrance,  however,  existed  for  this  adven- 
turous one.  He  managed  to  get  a  little  boat,  and, 
heedless  of  the  heat,  he  rowed  himself  across — an 
hour  and  a  half's  work — and  then  rushed  up  the 
mountain,  on  which  the  hotel  lay ;  this  took  another 
half-hour.  The  condition  he  arrived  in  is  best  not 
described. 

I  could  narrate  many  more  such  adventurous 
love  journeys  in  Europe  and  America,  but  those 
mentioned  will  be  sufficient  to  show  the  strange 
passionate  nature  of  the  man  who,  in  my  later  life, 
had  replaced  everything  that  was  so  cruelly  taken 
away  from  me  in  my  youth,  and  will  also  suffice  to 
explain  that  a  great  love  bound  me  to  him  which 
nothing  is  capable  of  destroying. 

The  reminiscences  of  those  American  years 
accumulate,  and  much  still  remains  that  would  be 
interesting  to  relate ;  but  I  will  not  extend  them  too 
much,  and  will  only  mention  a  few  well-known, 
original  people,  who  at  the  same  time  offer  a  good 
picture  of  many  American  peculiarities.  Two  names 
stand  out  above  all  others  in  my  mind's  eye — Ottilie 
Assing  and  Fred  Douglas.  The  former  was  a  sister 
of  Ludmilla  Assing,  and  was  brought  up  with  her 
in  her  uncle  Varnhagen  von  Ense's  house.  She  was 
the  cleverer,  although  the  less  pushing,  of  the  two. 

368 


OTTILIE  ASSING 

The  influence  of  the  learned  men  of  her  time, 
especially  of  the  two  brothers  Alexander  and  Wilhelm 
von  Humboldt,  was  distinctly  noticeable,  and  her 
splendid  education  and  refined  manners,  as  also  those 
of  "Rahel"  and  of  the  aesthetics  in  Varnhagen's 
salon.  She  had  come  to  North  America  full  of  the 
warmest  compassion  for  the  poor  slaves  of  the 
Southern  States,  and  had  placed  herself  here  at  the 
disposal  of  the  u  liberators." 

t  After  all  kinds  of  dangers  which  she  had  passed 
through  in  saving  negro  slaves  who  were  persecuted 
by  the  incensed  government  of  the  Southern  States, 
she  became  one  of  the  heads  of  the  society  in  New 
York  for  their  help  and  protection.  Some  of  them 
had  succeeded  in  escaping  from  bondage  ;  but,  hunted 
and  without  means,  they  would  have  perished,  if 
other  members  of  that  society  had  not  sent  them 
secretly  one  to  another,  and  hidden  the  poor  fugitives 
for  months  at  a  time,  at  the  risk  of  death  to  them- 
selves through  the  revenge  of  the  Southerners. 

Thus  Ottilie  Assing  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Fred  Douglas,  who  had  also  fled  from  slavery.  She 
had  taken  him  in,  and  found  in  him  an  unusually 
gifted  being. 

His  mother — a  jet-black  negress — had  brought 
him  into  the  world  during  the  first  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  on  a  plantation  of  the  rich  white 
American  Lloyd,  whom  one  suspected  of  being  his 
father.  Even  as  a  little  boy,  when  he  saw  the 
master's  children  reading  and  amusing  themselves 
over  what  they  read,  he  wept  bitterly  at  not  knowing 
this  art.  Against  the  master's  wishes,  he  found 
means  to  learn  how  to  read,  reckon,  and  write. 

He  was  on  good  terms  with  his  possessor  or,  as 
was  whispered,  his  father.  The  latter  did  not  want 
any  "educated  slaves,"  and  sold  him  at  last  into 
another  state. 

Fred  always  strove  to  extend  his  knowledge,  and 
succeeded  with  the  greatest  difficulty  in  obtaining  a 

369  2b   ' 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

first- class  school  education.  After  his  successful 
flight,  which  he  describes  very  picturesquely  in  a 
book,  My  Bondage  and  Freedom,  he  came  to  Ottilie 
Assing,  who  instructed  him  still  further.  She  kept 
him,  I  believe,  hidden  in  her  house  for  two  years, 
and  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  become  one  of  the 
most  eminent  men  of  the  United  States,  and  one 
who  distinguished  himself  alike  during  war  and  peace. 

He  travelled  all  through  England  and  Canada, 
also  the  whole  of  the  Northern  States,  and  proved 
himself  everywhere  a  brilliant  orator.  In  the  national 
war  which  was  fought  for  his  black  brothers,  and 
which  ended  at  last  in  their  deliverance,  he  came  to 
the  fore.  Lincoln,  the  most  famous  of  all  American 
Presidents,  placed  especial  confidence  in  him,  asked 
his  advice,  and  took  him  into  the  State  service. 
When  my  husband  and  I  made  his  acquaintance  in 
1878,  he  was  occupying  the  exalted  post  of  Marshal 
of  the  United  States  in  Washington.  Karl  Schurz 
— our  great  German  compatriot — considered  Fred 
Douglas  among  his  intimate  friends.  Every  child  in 
America  knew  "Fred."  We  found  in  him  a  tall, 
handsome,  leonine  man,  a  type  in  whom  the  mixture 
of  races  (for  he  thought  he  had  Indian  blood  in  his 
veins)  had  had  the  happiest  results.  His  rare  and 
universal  knowledge  was  particularly  noticeable  in 
America,  where  only  the  most  elementary  school 
education  predominates.  His  fascinating  manner  and 
amiability  had  lost  none  of  the  softness  of  character 
which  stamps  the  negro  in  his  national  songs,  and 
which  makes  the  men  and  women  of  this  race  such 
desirable  servants.  Our  old  friend  Ottilie  Assing 
had  taught  him  the  most  perfect  manner.  In  brie£ 
we  found  in  him  one  of  the  cleverest  and  pleasantest 
men  whom  we  knew.  He  combined  equally  wit 
and  humorous  views  of  life  with  deep  earnestness 
and  learning. 

When  quite  a  young  slave,  and  long  before  he 
was  free,  he  had  married  a  coal-black  negress  and  had 

370 


FRED  DOUGLAS 

a  black  family.  These  children,  in  spite  of  the 
brilliant  education  he  gave  them,  remained  mere 
niggers.  However,  he  sent  for  the  whole  family,  and 
lived  in  happy  wedlock  with  his  wife  until  her  death. 

Good  Ottilie's  ageing  heart,  as  was  natural,  was 
centred  upon  the  dark,  handsome  Fred — the  handi- 
work of  her  spirit.  She  respected  his  bonds  of  wed- 
lock, but  no  doubt  hoped  that  when  death  released 
him  from  his  coloured  spouse,  he  would  lay  his  freedom 
at  her  feet. 

The  poor  thing  was  bitterly  disappointed.  Fred 
Douglas,  whose  hair  was  now  snow-white,  contrasting 
with  the  dusky  colour  of  his  skin,  lost  his  wife 
through  death,  but  he  offered  his  hand  to  a  younger 
white  woman  who  had  been  his  secretary  when  he 
was  in  the  service  of  the  State. 

My  friend  Ottilie,  who  had  hitherto  been  so  brave, 
now  in  her  despair  committed  suicide  in  Paris,  in  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne,  whither  she  had  journeyed  in  the 
anguish  of  her  soul.  She  poisoned  herself  with 
cyanide  of  potassium  on  a  lonely  bench,  and  in  this 
way  miserably  ended  a  life  which  had  been  so  full  of 
good  and  noteworthy  deeds.  Probably  very  few 
people  besides  myself  knew  the  real  reason  of  this 
tragic  end. 

I  did  not  touch  on  these  two  exceptional  beings 
merely  to  talk  about  them,  but  to  show  in  the 
example  of  Fred  Douglas  how  deeply  racial  hatred  of 
the  most  educated  American  proved  itself,  even  in 
the  case  of  such  a  prominent  man  as  he  was. 

After  we  had  known  him  for  two  years,  we  were 
staying  one  summer  at  one  of  the  smart  bathing- 
place  hotels,  where  more  Americans  than  foreigners 
sought  relief  from  the  glowing  heat  of  July  and 
August. 

I  formed  a  closer  friendship  with  two  pleasant 
ladies — mother  and  daughter.  We  had  many  mutual 
interests  and  understood  each  other  in  most  of  the 
main  questions  of  life.     One  day  the  conversation 

371 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

turned  on  the  prejudices  of  race  among  the  Anglo- 
Saxons.  "The  Englishman  in  England,"  I  said, 
"does  not  assert  his  superiority,  but  unconsciously 
assumes  it ;  so  in  America.  The  foreigner,  unless  he 
understood  how  to  impress  people  with  exalted  titles, 
such  as  'Prince' or  'Duke/  never  attains  to  quite 
an  equivalent  standing  with  the  American  born.  As 
for  the  poor  nigger,  who  even  to-day  occupies  the  same 

miserable  position  as  during  the  time  of  slavery " 

Both  women  looked  in  astonishment  at  me,  and  said, 
"  Surely  you  don't  expect  us  to  regard  the  nigger  as 
a  human  being  ? " 

I  replied  in  equal  amazement,  "Not  the  nigger 
who  just  put  the  iced  water  on  the  table  for  us,  but 
the  educated  •  darkle/  " 

"There  is  not  a  single  coloured  man  capable  of 
any  kind  of  education,"  they  disputed  eagerly. 

"  What  about  Fred  Douglas  ? "  I  said,  playing 
this  my  great  trump  card. 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  moment,  then  the 
mother  said,  "  Well,  yes,  he  may  have  acquired  a 
little  political  knowledge,  but  you  surely  would  not 
sit  in  the  same  room  with  Fred  Douglas  ? " 

"  I  ?     Yes  !     I  love  and  honour  him  ! " 

The  ladies  stiffened  visibly. 

"Well,  but  you  would  never  shake  hands  with 
him  ! "  they  added  triumphantly. 

"  Not  only  shake  hands ;  my  husband  and  I  have 
even  kissed  him  heartily  when  we  met  again  after  a 
long  parting." 

"Oh,  well,"  came  long  drawn  out  from  the 
beautiful  lips  of  the  mother.  Then  she  looked  at  her 
watch  and  said,  "  Mabel,  it  is  time  for  church,"  and 
both  sailed  out. 

From  that  moment  they  acknowledged  me  coolly, 
and  never  spoke  to  me  again. 

As  I  have  said,  Fred  Douglas  married  a  white 
woman  after  the  death  of  his  coal-black  wife,  and 
when  already  advanced  in  years,  and  Marshal  of  the 

372 


AMERICAN  RACIAL  PREJUDICE 

United  States.  The  lady  was  of  very  good  family, 
and  because  of  her  marriage  was  cast  off  by  society. 
On  the  first  Sunday  after  their  wedding,  when  she 
appeared  in  the  church  she  had  attended  since  her 
childhood,  accompanied  by  the  man  so  much  esteemed 
by  the  government,  the  acquaintances  who  usually 
sat  next  to  her  got  up  and  left,  leaving  her  alone 
with  her  husband.  Fred  Douglas,  indignant  at  such 
behaviour,  wanted  to  enforce  his  rights. 

The  following  Sunday  he  appeared  again,  sat 
down  on  the  deserted  bench  without  his  wife,  whom 
he  wanted  to  spare  the  pain  of  being  treated  as  a 
pariah.  Then  the  whole  congregation  rose  up  to 
leave  the  church.  The  Marshal  remained  alone  with 
the  clergyman,  who,  in  these  circumstances,  gave  up 
the  service,  and  advised  him  rather  to  go  to  the 
coloured  preacher  of  his  "  own  people  "  in  the  Metho- 
dist Church. 

Almost  the  same  thing  happened  to  him  at  the 
theatre,  as  is  the  case  with  most  black  people.  He 
was  told  at  the  box  office  that  not  a  single  place  was 
vacant  Theatre  directors  cannot  act  otherwise,  for 
their  theatres  would  be  simply  boycotted,  if  it 
occurred  to  them  to  sell  a  seat  to  a  coloured  man. 

During  the  twelve  years  I  remained  in  the  States 
I  never  once  saw  a  coloured  man  in  a  tramcar.  He 
would  have  been  treated  in  such  a  manner  that  the 
poor  creature  would  never  attempt  it  a  second  time. 
The  same  applied  to  hotels,  restaurants,  and  bars. 

The  big  New  York  paper,  Hie  World,  once 
arranged  a  trial  to  establish  a  proof  of  this.  They 
chose  an  elegant,  well-dressed  nigger  as  reporter. 
He  drove  in  a  carriage  and  pair  to  the  best  hotels 
and  demanded  rooms.  A  rapid  glance  of  the  porter 
was  bestowed  upon  his  beautiful  trunks  and  hand- 
bags, then  a  regretful  shrug  of  the  shoulders  followed, 
and  invariably  the  same  words,  "  I  am  very  sorry, 
but  we  have  not  a  single  room  free."  The  next  one 
who  drove  up,  also  dispatched  as  traveller  by  The 

373 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

World  to  control  matters,  had  as  many  rooms  as  he 
wanted  put  at  his  disposal. 

In  the  smart  restaurants,  where  ocular  evidence 
made  it  impossible  to  say  that  "  no  table  was  free," 
they  did  not  even  trouble  to  make  an  excuse,  but 
simply  said,  "No  coloured  people  admitted."  The 
poor  things  were  dealt  with  otherwise  at  the  big  bars. 
Here  one  allowed  him  to  approach  a  table,  then  the 
bar-keeper  placed  himself  quietly  before  him,  and  to 
everything  the  reporter  asked  for,  no  matter  how 
much  he  let  his  dollars  shine,  he  received  the  following 
answer,  "  Sorry,  sir,  we  have  run  out  of  this."  The 
instant  the  coloured  man  entered,  all  customers  left 
the  place. 

The  white  reporter  who  entered  directly  after  him 
received  naturally  all  the  cocktails  and  drink  he  chose 
to  ask  for. 

It  was  so  utterly  against  the  principles  of  the 
Constitution  that  The  World,  in  conscientiously 
exposing  the  whole  affair,  added  a  disapproving  com- 
mentary on  the  Constitution  itself;  but  matters 
remained  as  before. 

When  I  remonstrated  with  a  lady,  who  expressed 
her  deep  disgust  of  niggers,  by  remarking  that  they 
all  liked  keeping  coloured  servants,  she  replied  naively, 
"Yes,  they  are  incomparable  as  such — honest,  good, 
and  attached  to  us.  The  Southern  niggers  especially 
would  allow  themselves  to  be  killed  for  their  masters, 
and  cannot  be  replaced  by  any  other  servants." 

My  reply,  that  beings  with  such  superior  qualities 
as  those  just  cited  could  not  be  quite  worthless,  was 
answered  with  the  assertion  that  they  were  not 
human  beings,  but  at  most  a  sort  of  superior  animal, 
and  it  was  a  wrong  to  have  liberated  them  from  the 
slavery  to  which  they  belonged. 

The  Chinaman  is  not  treated  quite  so  badly, 
perhaps  because  he  keeps  himself  so  very  much  in 
the  background,  and  has  the  same  prejudice  against 
the  white  man  as  the  latter  has  for  him. 

374 


AMERICAN  RACIAL  PREJUDICE 

One  meets  the  pigtailed  "  son  of  the  centre "  in 
all  tramcars  and  shops  without  the  American  shrinking 
from  him  as  if  he  had  the  plague ;  but  it  is  still  a 
question  whether  this  better  treatment  would  continue 
if  the  Chinaman  wanted  to  pose  as  an  American, 
possessing  full  rights  in  religion  as  in  everything  else. 

It  seems,  according  to  events  which  took  place  in 
California,  not  to  be  the  same  with  the  Japanese. 

As  with  the  Chinese,  so  with  the  nigger,  a  con- 
temptuous hatred — which  in  our  eyes  is  perfectly 
comprehensible — has  developed  in  him  against  the 
white  man.  The  nigger  usually  makes  a  comical 
distinction  when  speaking  of  his  equals — even  if  the 
most  elementary  rags  cover  their  nakedness — and 
designates  them  as  "lady  and  gentleman"  in  the 
same  sentence  where  they  speak  of  our  class  as  "  man 
and  woman." 

One  hears  a  hundred  times  the  expression  when 
a  ragged  old  negress  is  pointed  out,  "  That  coloured 
lady  spoke  to  that  white  woman "  (pointing  perhaps 
to  an  elegant  American).  The  down -trodden  race 
avenges  itself  with  similar  pin -pricks  against  its 
oppressors. 

The  haughtiness  of  the  American  does  not  confine 
itself  to  the  coloured  people.  The  Jew  is  exposed 
almost  as  much  to  their  racial  hatred,  and  if  they  had 
the  power  of  excluding  him  from  the  rights  of  the 
white  people,  they  would  surely  do  it. 

It  is  not  seldom  that  in  the  U.S.A.  big  fashionable 
warehouses  advertise  in  the  papers,  and  post  the  same 
on  the  doors  of  their  entrances  :  "  Nothing  sold  here 
to  Jews."  It  is  true  that  some  of  the  largest  houses 
failed  in  consequence  of  this  foolish  procedure ;  they 
perished  for  the  sake  of  their  racial  prejudices,  for 
there,  as  in  other  places,  the  rich  Jews  are  the  principal 
purchasers. 

Many  hotels  also  permit  themselves  the  luxury 
of  announcing  that  "No  Jews  are  accepted." 

In  conclusion,  I  will  relate  a  true  little  story. 

375 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

The  most  celebrated  German  doctor  in  all  the 
States  is  Dr.  Jacob y.  His  wife — although  he  is  a 
Jew  by  descent,  and  she  is  just  as  famous  a  lady 
doctor — is  of  strictly  Christian  origin,  being  the 
American  daughter  of  the  well-known  publishers, 
Putnam's  of  New  York.  But  she  has  dark  hair  and 
big  black  eyes,  and  is  called  "  Frau  Dr.  Jacoby." 

A  smart  summer  hotel  had  not  omitted  to 
announce  its  advertisement  in  the  New  York  papers, 
"No  Jews  accepted."  Frau  Dr.  Jacoby  wished  to 
push  this  impertinence  ad  absurdum.  She  drove  to 
the  hotel  with  her  children  and  servants,  mentioned 
her  name  that  was  so  respected,  and  received  in  reply, 
"  No  rooms  vacant."  At  this  she  answered,  "  I  am 
Dr.  Putnam  Jacoby."  "  We  are  sorry ;  no  rooms 
are  vacant." 

It  was,  however,  at  a  time  when  the  hotels  could 
not  possibly  have  been  overcrowded,  and  Frau  Dr. 
Jacoby  learned  later  that  after  her  departure,  some 
"Gentile  people"  —  as  the  Christians  are  called 
there — found  rooms  enough.  She  published  the 
insult  that  had  been  done  to  her ;  the  hotel  no  doubt 
suffered  from  it,  but  nothing  was  changed. 

Referring  to  interesting  acquaintances,  let  me 
mention  a  certain  intimacy  with  the  man  as  with 
the  artist  Vasilli  Vereschtschagin. 

At  that  time  I  was  writing  the  art  criticisms  for 
many  big  German  papers  in  the  States.  Thus  we 
met  my  husband's  compatriot  as  soon  as  he  arrived. 
He  was  the  first  who  understood  how  to  combine  an 
exhibition  of  pictures  with  the  arrangement  of  elegant 
salons.  He  transformed  the  compartments  of  his 
picture  gallery  into  magnificent  drawing-rooms  by 
means  of  an  immense  quantity  of  beautiful  old 
Persian  carpets,  costly  specimens  of  Russian  gold 
and  iron  work,  and  beautiful  Russian  laces. 

In  a  Russian  tea-room  where  Vereschtschagin's 
two  non-Russian  men-servants  stood  at  the  samovar 

376 


VASILLI  VERESCHTSCHAGIN 

all  day  pouring  out  tea,  a  Russian  lady  sat  at  the 
piano  and  sang  Russian  national  songs.  One  could 
imagine  oneself  transported  from  the  Hudson  to 
the  Volga.  The  extraordinary  fascinating  personality 
of  the  artist  himself,  and  this  comfortable  Russian 
interior,  took  something  away  from  the  gruesome 
impression  of  his  terrible  pictures  of  war,  crucifixions, 
and  horrors  of  all  kinds.  They  inspired  indeed  both 
horror  and  awe,  and  were  intended  by  the  artist  to 
do  this.  He  liked  to  call  himself  the  "  Missionary 
of  Peace,"  and  nothing  gave  him  more  satisfaction 
than  when  his  pictures  roused  disgust  against  war. 
He  hoped  by  means  of  them  to  attain  the  eventual 
abolition  of  it.  This  was  his  life's  aim.  He  painted 
over  1000  gruesome  pictures  to  illustrate  this,  and 
was  thus  the  greatest  apostle  of  peace. 

Everything  in  his  mighty  art  is  devoted  to  the 
horrors  of  war,  from  the  terrible  pyramid  of  skulls 
where  the  only  living  things  are  vultures  wheeling 
round  or  hovering  upon  them,  from  the  poor 
soldiers  dying  in  the  wretched  martyr's  bed  in  the 
field  hospitals  of  wounds  that  have  hardly  been 
dressed,  or  the  lonely  sentinel  on  the  Schipka  Pass — 
"Nothing  new  from  the  Schipka  Pass" — to  the 
impressive  scene  of  the  roll-call. 

As  a  contrast,  his  Himalayan  pictures  were  most 
elevating  and  uniquely  beautiful,  and  were  in  three 
parts — summit,  centre,  and  foot,  each  a  picture 
by  itself,  giving  a  true  representation  of  the  over- 
whelming mountains.  Peace  and  mightiness  are  ex- 
pressed therein  as  one  seldoms  finds  in  any  landscape. 
I  passed  days  with  him  in  his  showrooms,  and 
mentally  became  very  intimate  with  the  strange,  in- 
teresting man  ;  I  mourned  sincerely  when  I  heard 
of  his  tragic  death  in  the  horrible  catastrophe  of  the 
blowing  up  of  the  battleship  Peter  Pawlowski. 
What  a  curious  fate  !  In  early  youth  his  father  had 
destined  him  for  the  navy.  Life  at  sea  did  not 
appeal  to  him ;  he  left  it  and  became  a  painter  and 

377 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

led  a  nomadic  life,  until  in  death  the  sea  reclaimed 
him,  drawing  the  deserter  with  terrible  force  towards 
her  once  more.  The  sea  conquered  the  enemy  of  the 
sea,  just  as  war  roused  him  to  revolt  against  war. 

Most  of  his   pictures   are  held  as   national   pos- 
sessions  of  Russia. 

•  ••••• 

Whilst  touching  on  this  highest  art,  my  memory 
comes  upon  a  comical  episode  that  proves  how  the 
average  American  then,  as  perhaps  now,  comprehended 
the  term  "art."  One  morning  we  saw  in  all  the 
English  New  York  newspapers  an  advertisement 
with  the  heading,  "  An  Evening  with  Artists,  or  Art 
and  Industry,"  which  ran  thus  :  "  On  the  8th  of  May 
an  exhibition  of  the  rarest  art  will  take  place  in 
Madison  Square  Garden  (the  largest  building  in 
New  York,  with  enormous  halls).  Artists,  painters, 
designers,  sculptors,  and  musicians  of  the  very  first 
rank  will  allow  their  works  to  evolve  themselves 
before  the  eyes  of  the  public.  Artists  will  behave  as 
if  in  their  studios.  Visitors  are  requested  to  appear 
in  costume,  and  to  chat  with  the  artists.  Our 
military  friends  are  asked  to  appear  in  uniform. 
For  the  time,  art  and  industry  will  appear  like  sisters, 
hand  in  hand  in  the  adjoining  magnificent  exhibition. 
Entrance  50  cents  (2s.)." 

It  may  be  imagined  how  much  this  advertisement 
roused  our  curiosity.  We  agreed  to  go  that  evening 
with  a  party  of  friends,  and  had  a  lively  discussion  as 
to  whether  we  should  go  in  costume  or  not ;  Serge 
and  Keppler  were  against  costumes,  and  fortunately 
their  opinion  prevailed. 

At  nine  o'clock  we  all  met  in  the  large  entrance 
hall,  and  a  merry,  expectant  feeling  of  pleasure 
reigned  among  us. 

What  should  we  see  ?  We  entered  the  gigantic 
hall  in  the  greatest  state  of  curiosity.  A  gaping  void 
stared  at  us.  Perhaps  a  hundred  guests  were  lost  in 
the  spacious  hall  that  is  calculated  for  tens  of  thou- 

378 


AMERICAN  ART 

sands,  and  the  faces  that  met  ours  looked  so  stupid 
and  perplexed  that  this  alone  moved  us  to  the 
greatest  mirth.  In  the  centre  of  the  hall,  which  was 
quite  nicely  decorated  with  plants,  we  espied  a 
platform  about  150  feet  in  length,  upon  which  the 
artists  who  would  "  behave  as  if  in  their  studios  "  were 
posted.  A  piano  was  in  the  centre,  at  which  a  long- 
haired youth  sat  in  ecstasy  ;  he  seemed  to  see  nothing 
around  him  and  mercilessly  worked  away  at  it.  He 
was  improvising.  Next  to  him  was  an  easel  at  which 
an  incredible  being  stood,  disguised  as  a  painter.  He 
also  painted  away  without  noticing  his  surroundings, 
absorbed  in  the  sacred  depths  of  his  work.  What 
it  was  I  no  longer  know,  nor  did  I  at  the  time, 
distracted  as  I  was  by  the  overwhelming  ludicrousness 
of  the  "sculptor."  With  a  wild  mane  that  stuck  out 
in  all  directions,  he  ceaselessly  turned  his  artist  head 
in  terrifying  speed  from  his  lump  of  clay  on  a  pole 
to  his  model — a  tiny  cadet,  apparently  the  sole 
"  military  "  friend  who  had  appeared  in  uniform,  and 
who,  with  delightful  dignity,  seemed  conscious  of  the 
great  moment.  He  offered  his  ape-like  profile  to  the 
art  of  the  master.  It  was  the  ugliest  face  one  could 
imagine ;  the  lips  were  too  short,  it  had  a  very  pug 
nose,  and  expressionless  fish-eyes ;  but  no  one  else  had 
presented  himself  as  a  model,  and  the  artist  was 
carried  away  by  his  task. 

The  other  occupants  of  the  platform  were  just  as 
absorbed,  just  as  funny,  and  just  as  poor  in  their 
ability.  The  poor  things  were  paid  by  the  managers 
of  this  incredible  fete  by  the  hour,  to  "  behave  as  if 
in  their  studios."  Our  amusement  reached  its  height 
when  our  friend  Keppler,  whom  they  all  knew,  joined 
the  "  colleagues,"  entered  into  natural  conversation, 
and  played  up  entirely  to  their  importance.  Even 
this  was  not  the  culminating  point  of  this  amusing 
evening.  That  came  when  we  entered  a  mysterious, 
dimly  lighted  chamber,  above  which  an  inscription 
informed  us  "  Here  Art  and  Industry  Unite." 

379 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

At  first  we  saw  nothing.  Then  we  discovered,  on 
a  table,  a  cardboard  elephant  (this  was  art),  with  a 
saddle  in  which  several  little  wine-bottles  supported 
a  baldachin  (this  was  industry).  Next  to  this  was  a 
fortress,  also  in  cardboard  (elephant  and  fortress 
half  as  tall  as  a  man),  out  of  whose  loopholes  little 
scent  bottles  peeped  out  instead  of  cannon.  Here 
also  art  and  industry  united.  We  could  inspect 
nothing  more  for  laughing.  Some  gentlemen  were 
indignant  at  the  enormity  of  the  mystification,  and 
did  not  see  the  unconscious  irony  of  it  all,  grumbled 
over  their  lost  time  and  gaping  boredom,  but  were 
made  fun  of  by  us  more  lively  ones,  and  laughed  into 
silence.  Later  on  they  had  to  thank  us,  for  a  more 
amusing  remembrance  of  American  Art  probably  no 
one  ever  received.  To  this  day  that  evening  forms  a 
topic  of  never-ending  mirth  for  all  those  who  took 
part  in  it. 


380 


CHAPTER  XL 

During  the  last  year  of  our  stay  in  America  we  had 
rented  a!  charming  little  villa  in  rather  a  distant 
suburb  of  New  York.  Roselle  could  be  reached  by 
train  (which  often  resembles  a  tram  car)  in  an  hour, 
and  the  villa  offered  all  modern  conveniences.  I 
could  indulge  in  my  love  for  animals,  and  kept  dogs, 
chickens,  little  monkeys,  and  small  parrots ;  and  a 
nice  little  garden  permitted  me  to  grow  flowers  and 
vegetables. 

Shortly  before  we  moved  into  the  villa,  it  happened 
that  in  the  New  York  suburb  of  Hoboken,  I  met  a 
man  who  fell  down  in  the  street  with  convulsions. 
He  looked  rather  poor,  but  very  clean,  and  as  the 
incident  took  place  just  in  front  of  our  house,  I  had 
given  him  first  aid  (which  was  fresh  in  my  mind 
from  my  medical  studies).  I  asked  a  passing  police- 
man to  carry  the  man  into  the  house.  When  every- 
thing had  been  done  according  to  my  instructions, 
and  the  patient  had  regained  consciousness,  and  been 
fed,  I  soon  recognised  that  it  had  been  misery  and 
absolute  destitution  that  had  struck  him  down — the 
poor  thing  !  I  let  him  tell  me  the  often-heard  story 
of  wrecked  existences  in  America,  and  then  offered 
him  a  little  spare  room  in  which  to  rest  until  my 
husband — the  friend  of  the  poor  and  deserted — should 
return  home,  and  with  whom  I  would  consult  as  to 
what  was  to  be  done  next. 

Considering  that  in  our  new  villa  we  could  make 
use  of  male  assistance,  we  asked  the  poor  tramp  (as 

381 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

such  people  without  standing  or  occupation  are  called 
in  America)  to  come  with  us  to  Roselle.  He  accepted 
joyfully,  and  in  return  for  board  and  lodging  he 
rendered  little  services — went  errands,  etc.  He  be- 
haved very  well  for  some  weeks  in  spite  of  all  the 
dismal  prophecies  of  our  friends,  who  declared  I  had 
picked  up  a  thief  and  a  loafer  in  the  streets  and 
would  have  the  most  awful  experiences.  Nothing  of 
the  sort  occurred,  but  after  a  week  he  began  to  be 
dissatisfied  with  everything.  He  wanted  his  joint 
daily,  and  sometimes  chickens  or  poultry.  He  said 
he  had  been  accustomed  to  this  in  his  native  town, 
Hamburg.  In  short,  he  became  so  exorbitant  in  his 
demands  that  we  had  to  give  him  notice,  and  cease 
our  hospitality.  So  he  wandered  off  again  into  un- 
certainty. His  big  bedroom  on  the  third  story  was 
not  to  remain  empty  long. 

One  morning  Serge  and  I  stood  at  our  bedroom 
window,  when  we  saw  a  young  man  begging  down- 
stairs at  the  kitchen  door.  Our  excellent  Hungarian 
cook  was  just  handing  him  out  a  large  cup  of  coffee 
and  food,  which  he  fell  upon  as  if  famished.  I  went 
down  full  of  compassion  and  asked  him  if  he  would 
help  me  arrange  the  garden,  in  return  for  board  and 
lodging.  He  thanked  me  gratefully,  said  he  had 
helped  his  mother  to  garden  and  understood  every- 
thing very  well.     He  remained. 

So  after  the  German  tramp,  Frank,  the  American 
one,  became  an  inmate  of  our  house.  We  discovered 
in  him  a  most  excellent  young  man.  He  was  so 
grateful  for  the  good  shelter  that  he  tried  to  make 
himself  useful  in  every  possible  way,  and,  as  a  real 
American,  he  understood  everything.  If  the  electric 
bell  or  light  went  wrong,  Frank  came  to  the  rescue ; 
if  joiner's  or  locksmith's  work  were  needed,  Frank  did 
it  excellently ;  if  I  came  down  early  at  6  o'clock  to  plant 
and  water  in  the  garden,  Frank  had  already  done  at  5 
o'clock  everything  there  was  to  do.  In  short,  Frank 
was  a  jewel,  had  good  manners,  and  was  politeness  itself. 

382 


AMERICAN  EXPERIENCES 

One  day  Serge,  who,  as  I  said,  was  at  that  time 
editor  of  the  New  York  Volkszeitung,  and  did  other 
literary  work,  required  a  long  English  copy  of  a 
manuscript.  He  asked  Frank  to  look  for  somebody 
for  the  purpose  in  the  little  neighbouring  town.  But 
our  Frank  said,  "If  my  own  handwriting  is  good 
enough,  I  will  write  it  myself."  After  half  an  hour 
the  vagabond  appeared  with  the  first  sheets,  in 
orthography  and  handwriting  a  faultless  copy. 
"But,  Frank!"  exclaimed  my  husband,  "what  is 
the  matter  ?  You  can  do  everything,  yet  you  are 
here  with  us  as " 

"  Tramp  !  yes,  say  it !  A  demoralised  vagabond," 
the  young  man  interrupted  him  sadly. 

"  But  why,  Frank  ?     Why  ? " 

"Because  I  have  a  vagabond's  disposition.  My 
father  is  one  of  the  leading  clergymen  in  Philadelphia, 
and  I  was  to  have  studied,  but  I  can't — can't  sit  still, 
can't  remain  in  one  spot.  I  must  tramp,  must  wander  ! 
I  have  had  the  best  of  situations,  people  are  always 
satisfied  with  me,  but  there,  it  suddenly  comes  over 
me,  I  begin  to  drink,  and  must  be  off  and  away." 

We  looked  at  him  in  wonderment.  He  had 
never  touched  a  drop  of  liquor  whilst  with  us.  So 
he  wrote  and  worked,  until  one  fine  day  he  dis- 
appeared. The  girls  had  seen  him  depart  with  a 
bundle ;  he  had  not  said  anything,  but  a  nearly  new 
suit  of  my  husband's,  which  we  had  given  him,  was 
left  behind,  and  he  had  written  on  a  slip  of  paper, 
"  I  have  not  earned  these." 

A  few  days  later  I  went  down  to  the  pantry  of 
our  villa,  and  saw  there  a  whole  battery  of  empty 
condensed  milk  cans  heaped  up.  We  never  used 
condensed  milk,  so  I  asked  in  astonishment,  "  Where 
do  all  these  empty  milk  cans  come  from  ? " 

"  From  Frank,"  was  the  reply. 

"  From  Frank — what  do  you  mean  ?  What  could 
he  have  wanted  with  all  this  milk  ? " 

"  Here,"  and  the  cook  pointed  to  a  lot  of  empty 

383 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

methylated  spirit  bottles.  "  He  poured  this  into  the 
open  milk  cans,  and  drank  it  for  the  past  few  days — 
every  evening  and  all  night." 

Poor  fellow  I  It  had  "  come  over  him "  again. 
Methylated  spirits  and  milk ;  this  horrible  beverage 
had  driven  him  away  from  us,  where  he  had  been  so 
happy,  as  once  it  had  driven  him  from  his  own  home, 
to  tramp  on  the  highway. 

A  few  weeks  later  I  was  alone  at  home  one 
evening.  I  forgot  to  say  that  our  villa  was  quite 
isolated  and  without  neighbours.  My  only  protection 
were  my  three  dogs,  of  which  two — a  wolf-hound  and 
a  retriever  bitch  —  were  very  big  and  dangerous. 
The  Hungarian  cook  and  the  housemaid  were  rather 
nervous. 

Serge  was  often  busy  with  his  paper  far  into  the 
night,  and  a  faithful  friend,  who  in  such  cases  stood 
by  me,  was  at  that  time  travelling  in  the  west  of  the 
States.  The  evening  in  question  was  cold  and  rainy, 
so  that  at  10.30  pitch  darkness  reigned.  Suddenly 
my  dogs  began  barking  furiously,  and  a  moment 
later  there  was  a  loud  knocking  at  the  back  door.  I 
opened  the  window  in  the  first  story  and  called  out, 
"  Who  is  there  ? " 

The  enraged  dogs  were  trying  to  get  out  at  the 
door. 

M  We  are  two  good  friends.  Frank  has  sent  us ! 
Please  let  us  in  ! " 

No !  This  was  too  much,  even  for  me.  To  be 
looked  up  as  a  sort  of  vagabonds'  refuge,  that  the 
tramps  of  the  highway  sent  each  other  to  us — no  ! 

I  expressed  my  regret  at  being  unable  to  take 
in  the  two  "gentlemen"  of  the  highway — being  a 
woman  alone  and  at  the  dead  of  night. 

And  they  disappeared,  not  greatly  astonished. 
For  Frank's  sake  I  had  thrown  them  down  some 
money.  Besides  being  "mother  of  refuge  for 
vagabonds,"  I  reaped  at  that  time  in  my  little  villa 
a  splendid    testimonial    from   my   above-mentioned 

384 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA 

Hungarian  cook.  She  told  me  the  story  herself  in 
her  broken  English-German. 

"  Gra  Frau  knows  very  well  in  what  a  filthy  state 
the  last  cook  left  everything.  She  was  a  pig ; 
of  course  Madam  dismissed  her !  Then  the  butcher 
came,  and  said  the  last  cook  had  found  you  very 
particular  because  you  didn't  let  your  kitchen  be 
made  into  a  pigsty.  Then  I  gave  the  butcher  a  piece 
of  my  mind.  I  said,  *  My  lady  is  a  real  lady.  She 
doesn't  look  after  anything  and  doesn't  understand 
anything — and  thats  a  real  lady.' " 

There  I  had  it,  and  at  the  same  time  her  idea  of 
a  lady  1 

One  might  still  allude  to  funny  episodes  of  quaint, 
original  creatures  and  strange  personalities,  and  their 
introduction  into  these  reminiscences  would  surely 
amuse  and  interest  people  as  "human  documents." 
But  they  would  extend  my  Memoirs  ad  infinitum, 
and  I  must  therefore  postpone  doing  this  until, 
perhaps,  some  later  period. 

After  much  longing,  the  time  of  our  return  home 
at  last  approached.  Europe  was  opened  up  to 
us  once  more.  I  related  already  how  the  Tsar 
sequestrated  my  husband's  entire  fortune.  After 
long  years  of  effort  his  excellent  brother  Senator  von 
Schewitsch  had  succeeded  in  neutralising  this  confisca- 
tion, on  the  condition  that  we  should  return  to  Russia. 

The  idea  was  very  welcome  to  me,  because,  with 
the  exception  of  California,  I  had  never  felt  myself 
at  home  in  America.  Serge,  no  doubt,  felt  it  very 
much  to  have  to  quit  the  field  of  his  successful 
political  activity  to  return  to  a  country  where  he  could 
find  everything — except,  indeed,  political  freedom. 

But  as  we  already  had  suffered  too  much  under 
the  nightmare  of  pecuniary  difficulties,  we  could 
not  fail  to  bless  the  prospect  of  relief  from  these. 
Serge's  fortune  had  considerably  increased  of  late 
years,  owing  to  his  inheritance  from  his  deceased 
mother,  and  the  future  appeared  to  us  in  a  brilliant 

385  2  c 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

light,  in  spite  of  the  heavy  heart  with  which  the 
"  man  of  the  people,"  who  hung  heart  and  soul  to  his 
self-chosen  work,  had  to  bid  farewell  to  all  his  devoted 
ones. 

If  to-day,  after  having  passed  so  many  years  in 
the  longed-for  old  world  again,  I  look  back  on 
our  American  sojourn,  my  experiences  there  seem 
to  me  (even  those  which  at  the  time  appeared 
worthless  and  uninteresting)  to  stand  out  in  a  much 
more  powerful  light,  and  to  be  of  the  highest 
importance  to  my  development. 

I  went  over  there  as  a  woman,  hungering  for  life, 
restlessly  seeking,  never  knowing  equipoise  of  soul, 
always  hoping  to  find  in  the  next  day,  or  even  in 
the  next  experience,  that  which  everybody  can  find 
within  himself  alone. 

Even  before  crossing  the  ocean  I  had  known 
what  trouble  meant,  and  during  the  latter  years  had 
learnt  to  battle  with  it  a  little,  and  unconsciously  I 
profited  by  this  lesson.  But  it  was  only  in  America 
that  I  went  through  the  great  school  of  practical  life. 
In  it  I  learnt  that  everymiiig  in  our  fate  takes  place 
in  accordance  with  the  iron  law  of  cause  and  effect ; 
that  in  every  sorrow,  as  well  as  in  every  happiness,  we 
ourselves  are  the  originators  of  our  own  deeds  and 
thoughts. 


386 


PART    VIII 

Scotland — London — Rewedded — Meeting  H.  P.  Blavatsky 
again — Return  to  Russia — Riga — Russian  hospitality — 
Severe  illness — Berlin — At  the  portals  of  death — New 
life. 


387 


CHAPTER   XLI 

In  the  spring  of  1890  we  returned  to  Europe  in  a 
Scotch  steamship,  as  I  wished  to  pass  the  summer  in 
the  Highlands. 

How  delighted  we  were  when,  in  the  dawn  of  a 
summer  morning,  the  beautiful  green  shores  of  old 
Ireland  rose  up  before  our  eyes  I  Yet  we  only  con- 
sidered ourselves  as  really  "  home  again "  when  the 
ship  stopped  at  Glasgow,  and  we  left  it,  bidding 
farewell  to  our  kind  captain. 

Then  followed  a  gloriously  happy  time  in  Scotland. 
We,  who  had  so  thirsted  for  Europe,  enjoyed  the 
beautiful  Highlands  with  their  towers,  lakes,  castles, 
and  mountains,  more  than  others  did.  We  had  lived 
too  long  in  the  matter-of-fact,  dollar  country  not  to 
appreciate  to  the  full  the  entire  charm  of  places  so 
interwoven  with  legend.  I  found  in  every  corner, 
and  in  all  the  houses,  palaces,  and  citadels  of  Glasgow, 
Stirling,  and  Edinburgh,  the  atmosphere  of  the 
days  of  unhappy  Mary  Stuart,  of  whom  I  was  an 
enthusiastic  admirer.  Darnley,  Rizzio,  Bothwell — 
all  stood  before  me  in  imagination,  and  beautiful 
Mary  Stuart  herself  had  probably  never  lived  more 
really  than  she  did  then  in  my  mind.  Every  varying 
picture  of  her  arose,  although  none  of  them  could 
reproduce  the  magical  charm  of  the  seductive  woman, 
who  is  as  much  revered  to-day  by  her  Scotsmen  as 
she  was  once  when  she  languished,  an  unfortunate 
prisoner,  in  the  Tower  of  London. 

We  were  delighted,  above  all,  with  Edinburgh — 

389 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

the  Athens  of  the  North.  It  is  really  the  most 
beautiful  and  finely  situated  city  in  Europe,  not  even 
excepting  Naples  and  Geneva. 

After  a  few  all  too  fleeting  weeks,  we  were  obliged 
to  tear  ourselves  away  from  Scotland,  for  there  was 
still  a  difficulty  before  us  which  must  be  overcome. 
According  to  Russian  law,  our  marriage  had  to  be 
sanctioned  by  a  "pope  "  of  the  Greek  Catholic  Church. 
A  civil  marriage  alone,  such  as  ours  in  America,  was 
not  sufficient  to  allow  us  to  be  regarded  in  Russia  as 
legally  married.  We  resolved  to  let  this  religious 
marriage  take  place  in  England,  and  went  for  this 
purpose  to  London.  We  lived  there  quietly  for  a 
time  in  the  charming  suburb  of  Teddington,  with  its 
beautiful  Bushey  Park  and  Hampton  Court. 

Now  came  the  ludicrous  part  of  the  situation. 
We  could  not  be  married  in  accordance  with  Russian 
law,  because  England  regarded  our  previous  marriage 
as  absolutely  legal. 

The  Russian  priest  could  not  fulfil  any  ecclesi- 
astical ceremony  before  the  civil  marriage  had  been 
solemnised  in  London.  At  the  Registry  Office  in 
London  we  were  asked  what  we  wanted,  as  we  were 
already  legally  united.  A  marriage  solemnised  in 
America  is  completely  legal  in  England. 

"But  not  in  Russia  I    we  exclaimed. 

"  But  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  us  !  As  far  as 
we  are  concerned,  you  are  married." 

There  we  were  !  married  both  too  much  and  too 
little !  At  last  we  found  hearing  and  consideration 
with  the  Archimandrite  of  the  Greek  Church. 

He  demanded  that  the  London  Registry  Office 
should  confirm  the  fact  of  our  legal  marriage  in  New 
York  ten  years  previously,  and,  when  this  had  been 
done,  amid  much  laughter  of  the  English  officials, 
who  were  unaccustomed  to  such  continental  con- 
ditions, we  were  at  last  permitted  to  go  through  the 
rather  theatrical  marriage  ceremony  in  the  beautiful 
Greek  church. 

390 


REMARRIAGE  IN  LONDON 

So  my  husband  Serge  and  I  are  in  reality  three 
times  married — first  by  the  New  York  Registrar, 
secondly  by  the  confirmation  of  this  by  the  London 
Registrar,  and  thirdly  by  the  Greek  Church  in 
London. 

Whether  all  this  official  riveting  would  have  held 
us  together  without  our  all-surviving  love,  I  greatly 
doubt. 

The  little  winged  god  of  Love,  who  was  not  to 
be  defied  by  age  and  changeful  fate,  was  victorious 
over  all  these  human  arrangements.  Under  his  pro- 
tection, as  soon  as  we  had  accomplished  the  purpose 
for  which  we  had  come  to  England,  we  travelled  to 
Russia  again  by  water — home  ! 

It  was  hard  to  part  from  the  dear  friends  who  had 
shown  us  so  much  hospitality  during  the  months  we 
had  spent  in  England. 

We  had  found  our  dear,  faithful  old  friend,  the 
wonderful  and  much -discussed  Helena  Petrowna 
Blavatsky,  again  in  London,  and  passed  several 
weeks  in  her  house,  which  was  the  headquarters  of 
the  Theosophical  Society.  This  stay  in  London 
remains  in  my  memory  as  the  most  interesting  time 
passed  with  interesting  people.  Names  such  as  Annie 
Besant  and  Herbert  Burrows — both  of  whom  were  at 
that  time  immersed  in  Socialism — were  just  then  on 
the  point  of  taking  the  great  step  from  a  pure 
materialistic  standpoint  to  the  views  of  Indian 
theosophy,  under  the  direction  of  the  remarkable 
and  fascinating  Blavatsky.  As  before  stated,  we 
were  already  her  adherents  in  New  York,  and  were 
now  again  under  the  spell  of  this  woman,  who  was  as 
kind  as  she  was  intellectually  great.  I  have  already 
devoted  a  little  book  especially  to  her  and  the  teach- 
ings which  she  first  introduced  to  the  West,  so  that  I 
must  not  dwell  upon  it  at  length  here. 

We  were  very  anxious  to  reach  Russia,  Serge's 
real  home.  We  had  decided  to  choose  Riga  as 
our  abode.     Various  reasons  induced  me  to  do  this. 

391 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

Petersburg  and  all  the  interior  of  Russia  were  out  of 
the  question,  being  unsuited  to  my  health.  The 
name  Schewitsch  was  well  known  and  respected  in 
Riga.  My  husband's  eldest  brother,  a  particularly 
noble  and  humane  man,  had  been  Governor  of 
Livonia  for  a  long  time,  and  had  made  himself  very 
popular  on  account  of  his  impartial  dealings  with 
Germans,  Lithuanians,  and  Russians.  As,  however, 
his  humane  and  unprejudiced  attitude  did  not  suit 
the  party  then  in  power,  he  had  been  recalled  from 
his  post  just  before  our  arrival,  much  to  the  regret  of 
all  classes  of  this  mixed  population.  Since  then,  he 
occupies  a  much  higher  post  in  the  service  of  the 
State,  but  in  Livonia  his  memory  is  treasured  with 
fidelity  and  reverence,  mingled  with  longing  regret. 

This  devotion  to  the  brother  paved  the  way  to  a 
very  pleasant  sojourn  for  Serge.  He  resolved  to  take 
up  his  old  profession  of  barrister,  on  his  own  account, 
instead  of  State  service.  He  was  especially  fitted  for 
this,  both  on  account  of  his  eloquence,  the  knowledge 
of  the  two  national  languages,  and  many  other  talents. 

In  order  to  accustom  himself  again  to  this  pro- 
fession, he  entered  the  office  of  one  of  the  lawyers  in 
Riga,  and  everybody  prophesied  a  great  future  for 
him,  when,  unfortunately,  I  became  very  ill,  and  this 
put  an  end  to  his  plans. 

However,  before  speaking  of  this,  I  will  relate 
how  warmly  we  were  received  in  Riga.  We  had 
alighted  at  the  hotel  "Frankfurter  Hof,"  and  were 
very  comfortable  there,  but  nevertheless  had  intended 
taking  a  flat.  After  the  death  of  his  mother,  Serge 
had  inherited  all  her  most  valuable  furniture,  which 
his  brother  the  Senator  had  transported  to  the  family 
estate  near  Wilna  Minsk,  in  order  to  save  us  the 
expense  of  housing  it,  which  would  have  amounted  in 
all  those  years  to  a  very  considerable  sum.  Every- 
thing now  was  to  be  sent  by  van  to  Riga.  This  was 
only  possible  during  the  winter,  by  sledge,  on  account 
of  the  condition  of  the  Russian  roads. 

392 


HOSPITALITY  IN  RIGA 

We  should  therefore  have  had  to  wait  patiently 
for  several  months  had  it  not  been  that  good-natured 
help  was  offered  us.  Immediately  on  our  arrival  at 
Riga  we  had  met  Consul  Schnackenburg,  the  most 
amiable  old  gentleman  in  the  world.  We  soon  made 
friends  with  him  and  his  clever,  interesting  wife,  and 
they  came  to  see  us  one  afternoon. 

The  Consul,  leaning  back  comfortably  with  his 
cup  of  tea,  said  in  his  kind  way,  "  Now,  listen,  my 
dear  friends,  to  what  my  wife  and  I  have  thought  of. 
As  a  good  old  merchant,  I  am,  of  course,  a  good 
reckoner,  and  have  just  made  out  that  it  would  cost 
a  terrific  sum  of  money  if  you  were  to  keep  this  flat, 
with  everything,  in  this  hotel.  I  therefore  propose 
to  you  that  you  should  go  at  once  and  find  a  suitable 
flat  for  yourselves." 

"  That  is  all  very  fine,"  I  replied  quickly.  "  No 
matter  how  nice  that  may  be,  we  shall  only  have  our 
furniture  in  the  middle  of  the  winter." 

"Let  me  finish  speaking,  most  beautiful  and 
dearest  of  women,"  replied  the  old  gentleman,  smiling. 
"  You  find  the  dwelling,  and  my  wife  and  I  will  take 
the  responsibility  of  everything  else." 

We  both  opened  our  eyes  wide  at  this,  and  must 
have  looked  blankly  astonished,  for  the  two  dear  old 
people  burst  out  laughing  heartily.  We  neither  of  us 
understood  what  they  meant,  until,  stroking  his  long 
snow-white  beard,  he  continued,  "  In  our  gigantic 
house,  in  the  upper  rooms,  which  are  uninhabited,  we 
have  enough  furniture  stored  to  fit  up  half  a  city. 
We  inherited  it,  and  it  is  all  good,  solid  old-fashioned 
stuff.  You  will  do  us  a  favour  if  you  will  help  us  to 
prevent  the  things  being  devoured  by  moths." 

We  were  speechless,  then  <the  Consul's  wife  said, 
u  I  will  fill  the  sideboards  and  cupboards  with  linen, 
glass  and  china,  silver,  and  cooking  utensils.  In  short, 
you  will  have  to  trouble  about  nothing  except  moving 
in." 

Before  we  could  realise  that  this  inconceivable 

393 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

thing  was  no  fairy  tale,  before  we  could  refuse  to 
accept  so  much  kindness,  the  charming  people  were 
pressing  us  to  look  for  a  flat  immediately,  and 
we  all  started  together  to  find  a  suitable  place. 
This  was  soon  found,  and  we  took  six  nice  large 
rooms,  with  three  servants'  rooms,  balconies  and 
gardens.  Within  a  few  days  they  were  completely 
furnished  with  beautiful  old  furniture  which  would 
have  delighted  the  eye  of  any  collector,  all  comfort- 
able and  solid — pictures, chandeliers,  lamps,  nicknacks  ; 
in  fact,  an  entire  furnishing  in  which  no  detail  was 
wanting,  and  into  which  we  ensconced  ourselves  as 
comfortably  as  if  the  things  had  belonged  to  us  since 
the  time  of  our  grandfathers. 

We  felt  as  if  we  had  been  transported  to  wonder- 
land, and  even  to-day  I  regard  the  two  touchingly 
kind,  noble  old  people  as  a  species  of  fairy  spirits,  and 
am  eternally  grateful  to  them.  The  old  gentleman 
has  long  since  gone  to  his  eternal  rest,  and  I  am  glad 
that  my  husband,  after  he  had  come  into  the  posses- 
sion of  his  fortune,  was  able  to  prove  his  gratitude  by 
rendering  him  a  considerable  service,  and  thus  relieving 
the  kind  old  man's  heart  of  a  heavy  care  during  his 
last  days.  In  reality,  however,  we  could  never  repay 
what  this  splendid  old  couple  had  done  for  us  out  of 
pure  warmth  of  heart. 

They  proved  their  kindness  anew  to  me  during 
the  time  of  my  severe  illness  that  same  cruel  winter. 

I  was  obliged  to  remain  in  bed  the  whole  winter, 
and  suffered  unspeakably.  Then  the  dear  old  Consul 
drove  out  to  the  country  himself,  in  the  bitter  cold,  to 
procure  new-laid  eggs  (the  only  nourishment  I  could 
take  for  a  long  time).  He  brought  the  little  basket 
containing  them  to  my  bedside,  with  the  most  pathetic 
care,  and  found  sufficient  reward  in  a  smile  from  his 
poor  sick  friend. 

Blessed  be  his  memory  for  all  time ! 

.  .  •  .  .  • 

In  consequence  of  this  severe  illness,  I  got  to  know 

394 


SEVERE  ILLNESS 

very  few  people  in  Riga.  In  the  spring — still  very 
ill — I  was  taken  to  the  coast. 

The  sympathy  that  the  dear  Schnackenburgs  had 
shown  us  seemed  to  have  extended  almost  to  the 
entire  population  of  Riga,  as  we  received  proofs  of 
kindness  from  all  sides.  When,  after  nearly  a  year, 
I  was  removed  to  Berlin  for  a  serious  operation,  half 
the  town  followed  the  stretcher  on  which  I  lay  to  the 
port.  I  was  deeply  moved  at  the  many  blessings  that 
were  showered  on  me,  also  at  the  sympathy  proffered 
by  many  people  I  did  not  know,  who  kissed  my  hands 
and  the  hem  of  my  garments. 

Quite  as  much  sympathy  was  shown  me  on  the 
steamer  which  took  us  to  Stettin.  My  dear  doctor 
Von  Haacke,  whom  I  shall  never  forget,  and  the  good 
captain  of  the  ship  carried  me  down  to  my  cabin 
themselves,  and  put  me  to  bed  with  motherly  care. 
Thus  I  preserved  only  nice  memories  of  my  dear 
Riga.  Later  on,  they  all  confessed  that  none  of  them 
had  ever  hoped  to  see  me  again  ;  they  considered  me 
doomed.  Even  my  excellent  doctor  had  not  hidden 
from  me  that  the  approaching  operation  was  a  life  or 
death  one,  and  that  there  was  only  one  man  in  the 
world  with  whom  there  was  a  chance  of  success,  and 
that  was  Doctor  Olshausen  of  the  Berlin  University. 
Although  it  was  very  risky,  after  a  long  consultation 
with  my  husband,  I  decided  upon  it,  because  I  saw 
how  much  he  hung  upon  the  only  possibility  of  saving 
my  life,  and  how  ready  he  was  for  every  sacrifice  of 
money  and  patience. 

At  that  time  the  Baltic  provinces  were  passing 
through  a  very  interesting  political  phase,  in  which  the 
seed  was  sown  for  that  dreadful  revolution  which  took 
place  after  1905,  when  the  small  and  once  so  flourish- 
ing provinces  of  Livonia,  Esthland,  and  Courland 
almost  perished. 

In  the  year  1890  the  Russian  language  was  made 
obligatory  in  schools.  A  cry  of  indignation  arose  in 
consequence  amongst  the  German  nobility  and  the 

395 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

"  literate."  The  last  term  is  used  to  describe  all  those 
of  that  strange  little  country  on  the  furthermost 
shores  of  the  Baltic  who  have  enjoyed  a  university 
education,  such  as  doctors,  jurists,  theologians,  and 
philosophers,  even  if  they  have  never  been  actively 
employed  in  literary  work,  according  to  the  con- 
ception of  our  Western  European  ideas. 

Sensible  and  unprejudiced  people  do  not  regard 
the  matter  in  a  tragic  light,  for  the  Russian  Govern- 
ment had  been  threatening  for  twenty  years  to 
Russianise  >the  Baltic  provinces ;  and  although  one 
does  not  wish  to  defend  this,  the  threatened  evil 
might  have  been  avoided,  if  the  children,  who  were  at 
least  Russian  subjects,  had  earlier  been  made  to  learn 
Russian  as  well  as  German.  The  Lithuanians,  that 
is  to  say,  the  people,  were  more  clever.  They  had 
mostly  had  their  children  taught  in  the  Russian 
language,  and  were  more  easily  able  to  conform 
now  to  the  enforced  law.  One  could  but  feel  sorry 
for  the  little  scholars,  who,  from  one  day  to  another, 
and  without  understanding  a  word,  were  compelled 
to  do  all  their  school  tasks — reading,  writing,  and 
arithmetic  —  in  Russian ;  but  sympathy  with  the 
children  strengthened  anger  against  the  parents  for 
ignoring  all  wisdom  and  foresight,  and  placing  the 
little  ones  in  this  position.  One  could  but  admire  the 
quiet  and  continuous  work  of  the  Lithuanians,  who 
were  so  despised  by  the  Germans,  and  who  had  already 
caused  their  offspring  to  be  taught  in  Russian,  or 
now  set  everything  in  motion  in  order  to  facilitate 
their  learning  the  Government  language  in  as  short  a 
time  as  possible. 

Yes,  these  contemptuous  Germans  I 

They  had  been  living  for  centuries  in  the  country 
whose  original  inhabitants  were  just  these  Lithuanians 
and  Esthonians,  and  instead  of  going  hand  in  hand 
with  them  against  their  Russian  oppressors,  instead  of 
gaining  a  little  the  love  of  the  people  on  whom  in  all 
serious  moments  they  were  materially  dependent  (as 

396 


THE  ANXIOUS  PILOT 

had  been  shown  these  last  years),  they  kept  them  in 
humiliating  submission,  shook  their  fists  at  them,  and 
treated  them,  in  all  conditions  of  life,  with  the  greatest 
contempt.  The  worst  term  of  reproach  the  Germans 
there  could  use  was,  "  He  is  a  Lithuanian."  They 
sowed  the  wind,  and  to-day,  of  course,  reap  the 
whirlwind.  They  treated  them  on  the  same  principle 
as  the  Americans  treat  the  blacks ;  and  as  they 
behaved  similarly  to  the  Russians,  the  consequence 
was  that  they  stood  alone  in  their  hour  of  need,  and 
had  cultivated  enemies  on  all  sides.  The  Germans 
may  have  found  a  certain  satisfaction  in  showing  their 
haughtiness  towards,  and  contempt  of,  other  nations, 
but  their  behaviour  was  certainly  not  wise  from  a 
political  point  of  view. 

So  we  left  Riga  in  September,  just  a  year  after 
our  arrival,  and  were  approaching  a  future  full  of 
anxiety.  It  was  only  my  poor  husband  who  was  so 
anxious,  for  neither  before  nor  after  in  my  life  did  I 
feel  so  happy,  so  calm,  and  so  collected  as  in  those 
days  before  the  operation.  How  the  people  around  me 
regarded  my  fate  and  chances  of  life  was  clearly  visible 
in  a  comical  little  episode  which  took  place  on  the 
steamer.  Our  pilot  was  an  original  old  Pomeranian, 
and  it  seems  I  had  struck  him  by  my  deathly  paleness 
and  suffering  appearance.  During  the  fine  weather 
that  accompanied  our  arrival  in  Stettin,  after  heavy 
storms,  I  was  on  deck  lying  on  the  stretcher  I  had 
brought  with  me  from  Riga,  and  lay  there  peacefully, 
rejoicing  at  the  universal  kindness  and  sympathy  that 
everybody  offered  me.  The  old  pilot  came  up  to  me 
and  said  in  an  impossible  dialect,  and  with  pathos, 
"  Good  gracious,  my  little  daughter,  what  do  you  look 
like  ?     What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

I  told  him  also  that  I  was  being  taken  to  Berlin 
for  a  serious  operation. 

"  Oh,  gracious,  my  little  daughter,  you  are  going 
to  certain  death,  you   look  like  a   corpse   already. 

397 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

No,  little  daughter,  no,  you  will  never  get  over  it! 
You  are  too  ill ! " 

I  was  obliged  to  laugh  heartily  at  this  peculiar 
way  of  expressing  sympathy.  The  old  man  gave  me 
various  bits  of  advice.  "I  was  not  to  trust  the 
doctors,  for  they  often  did  such  foolish  things.  My 
husband  ought  to  look  after  me  properly,  etc." 

Ridiculous  as  these  words  were,  he  meant  well  by 
them  ;  and  when  we  landed  in  Stettin,  nothing  could 
prevent  him,  in  spite  of  his  dignity  as  pilot,  from  assist- 
ing our  man-servant  and  a  bearer  to  carry  me  on  shore. 

In  the  meantime,  in  Berlin  my  dear  and  faithful 
friend  Siegwart  Friedmann  had  arranged  everything 
for  my  comfort,  and  in  a  first-class  private  hotel  we 
could  quietly  await  the  day  that  was  to  see  me  taken 
to  the  clinique. 

Here  again  I  had  touching  proofs  of  the  most 
noble  human  kindness.  Women  with  whom  I  was 
not  even  intimate,  but  with  whom  I  was  merely  on  a 
friendly  intellectual  footing,  travelled  long  distances 
to  Berlin  when  they  heard  of  the  difficult  time  I  had 
to  go  through,  in  order  to  stand  by  me  and  stay  with 
me  until  the  last  moment.  All  who  came  near  me 
were  astonished  to  see  how  happy  and  collected  I  was 
in  meeting  this  decisive  hour. 

I  have  made  it  a  duty  to  myself  not  to  touch  on 
the  occult  and  supernatural  side  of  my  manifold  life 
in  these  Memoirs,  therefore  I  cannot  relate  how  I 
arrived  at  this  feeling  of  unlimited  calm  and  happiness. 
Let  this  much  only  be  disclosed,  that  all  this  was 
closely  connected  with  my  studies  of  the  ancient 
Indian  Vedanta  philosophy,  and  with  my  theosophical 
views  of  life. 

That  wonderful  and  oldest  of  all  philosophies 
teaches  Us  what  we  all  bear  within  us  from  time  im- 
memorial ;  that  death  is  only  a  change  of  condition  ; 
that  our  body  is  merely  the  clothing  of  a  spirit  which 
is  everlasting,  ever  developing,  ever  reborn  in  a  new 
form. 

398 


VIEWS  ON  DEATH 

That  truth  was  newly  awakened  within  us  by 
Madame  H.  P.  Blavatsky,  and  lived  in  Goethe  when 
he  said  to  Eckermann,  "  If  I  work  ceaselessly  until 
my  end,  nature  is  bound  to  bestow  on  me  another 
form  of  being  when  my  present  one  is  no  longer 
capable  of  harbouring  my  spirit." 

Who  could  fear  death  if  this  great  truth  had 
become  as  convincing  as  it  was  to  me,  as  convincing 
as  the  feeling  of  this  present  earthly  life  ?  Yes,  who, 
standing  within  the  truth,  would  not  greet  the 
"  earnest  friend  *  in  gladness  and  silent  happiness  ?  if, 
suffering  as  I  was,  he  felt  his  present  body  only  a 
burden,  that  hindered  him  from  completing  that  which 
the  Spirit  had  recognised  as  the  ideal,  and  a  necessity 
to  him  ?  I  was  thus  in  an  uplifted  and  happy  mood, 
far  from  every-day  life,  raised  aloft  in  a  spiritual  atmo- 
sphere, into  which  no  earthly  terror,  no  fear  of  death, 
nor  petty  earthly  considerations  could  penetrate. 

My  nurses  also  said  during  these  last  days  and 
hours,  "  This  is  unearthly !  We  have  never  seen 
such  a  state  of  mind  before  a  life  and  death  operation." 

How  often  I  have  wished  since  then  that  I  could 
feel  once  more  that  sensation  of  happiness,  that 
exalted  peace  and  illumination,  which  came  to  me 
during  those  days  when  all  the  loving  ones  round  me 
looked  on  me  with  uncomprehending  kindness,  full 
of  compassion.  Later  on,  when  I  was  given  back  to 
the  world's  turmoil,  I  never  found  it  again.  One 
thing  only  has  remained  to  me :  I  know  no  fear  of 
death.  Indeed,  there  lies  within  me  a  certain  yearn- 
ing love  towards  the  all-healing  God,  and  in  His  hour 
of  triumph  I  hope  that  I  shall  find  once  again  the 
ecstatic  uplifting  of  that  time. 


399 


CHAPTER  XLII 

I  found  in  my  genial  operator,  Professor  Dr.  Robert 
Olshausen,  a  kind  and  considerate  man,  who  charmed 
me  at  once. 

Shortly  before  the  great  day,  he  and  I  had  a  long 
discussion,  in  which  the  clever  man  said  to  me,  "  You 
see,  I  must  have  just  as  great  confidence  in  your 
strength  and  vitality  as  you  have  in  my  science, 
otherwise  we  shall  not  succeed,  and  I  cannot  perform 
the  operation."  At  the  same  time,  he  looked  at  me 
so  convincingly  with  his  kind,  eager  blue  eyes,  that, 
inspired  for  "  our  "  task,  I  stretched  out  both  hands 
towards  him  and  exclaimed,  "Now,  you  can  make 
mincemeat  of  me  I  It  is  all  the  same  to  me — I  don't 
mind!" 

Well,  it  was  almost  that !  When  the  Professor 
opened  me  up,  he  found  my  interior  in  such  a 
desperate  condition  that  he  shook  his  head  and  said, 
"  No,  I  can't  do  it ;  it  is  impossible." 

He  only  performed  the  operation  on  being  per- 
suaded to  do  so  by  his  assistants.  The  terrible  task 
lasted  three  hours  and  a  half,  instead  of  three  quarters 
of  an  hour,  as  he  had  supposed  possible  in  the  worst 
case. 

My  poor  husband  had  to  wait  in  anguish  of  soul 
all  that  time  in  the  doctor's  private  room.  Three 
dreadful  hours,  that  might  well  count  in  a  man's  life ! 
When  the  doctor  went  in  to  him,  tired  to  death,  and 
pale  from  the  terrible  exertion,  the  ominous  words 
were  uttered,  "  The  operation  is  over,  but  your  wife 

400 


RECOVERY  FROM  ILLNESS 

will  scarcely  be  able  to  survive  the  day,  for  it  is  almost 

certain   that  peritonitis  will  set  in  ;    and   then " 

The  exhausted  doctor  sadly  left  my  despairing  Serge. 

Then  Siegwart  Friedmann  proved  to  him  his  deep 
and  encompassing  friendship.  He  cared  for  him  as  a 
brother,  and  helped  him  over  those  dreadful  days. 

But  the  great  surgeon  had  made  a  mistake ;  and 
this  I  realised  in  my  subconsciousness,  when  the 
physician  still  despaired  of  being  able  to  rouse  me  from 
the  heavy  narcosis  into  which  I  had  fallen.  /  knew 
it.  I  had  to  live,  and  experience  still  much — very 
much — joy  and  sorrow. 

My  operators  and  nurses  called  me  for  many  years 
"the  miracle  of  the  clinique  of  the  Berlin  University," 
just  as  I  still  call  that  splendid  man,  Professor  Dr. 
Olshausen,  my  "  second  mother."  Life  was  given  me 
through  him  a  second  time. 

Let  me  here  openly  express  once  more  my  deep, 
inward,  and  lasting  thanks  to  him  and  his  great  science, 
thanks  which  the  kind,  modest,  learned  man  always 
turned  aside  with  touching  simplicity  whenever  I 
spoke  of  it  to  him  personally.  "  Do  not  thank  me  for 
your  recovery,"  he  then  said,  "  but  yourself  and  your 
own  wonderful  nature.  You  are,  and  remain,  a 
miracle."  Very  well  !  Certainly  my  strong  and  ever 
recuperative  constitution  was  a  good  supporter  of  his 
science  ;  but  how  far  would  my  "  nature  "  have  taken 
me,  without  his  knowledge,  his  courage,  his  small, 
sure,  skilful  hands?  Therefore  the  splendid  man, 
whether  he  will  or  not,  must  accept  my  thanks,  with 
those  of  hundreds  of  others  whose  lives  have  been 
saved  by  him. 

•  •  •  •  • 

W       -A 

My  force  and  relative  recovery  came  back  to  me, 
but  very  slowly.  Then,  as  now,  I  realised  the  truth  of 
what  the  doctors  told  me  before  the  operation,  when 
they  said  that  I  should  only  make  a  relative  recovery, 
and  never  again  be  as  capable  of  resistance  as  one  who 
had  never  gone  through  this  dreadful  illness. 

401  2d 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

I  have  remained  a  sickly  woman,  with  heart  and 
nerves  weakened  for  ever. 

Nevertheless  the  happiest  years  of  my  life  followed 
these  times  of  sickness. 

The  Tsar  had  restored  all  rights  of  possession  to 
my  husband,  and  we  revelled  in  the  well-being  of  our 
material  means. 

In  order  to  offer  me  as  much  facility  as  possible 
for  my  recovery,  we  travelled  for  six  years.  We 
kept  a  pied-a-terre  in  Munich,  as  in  this  keenly 
artistic  town,  where  the  advantages  of  a  big  city  are 
united  so  pleasantly  with  those  of  not  too  big  a  one, 
we  felt  ourselves  the  most  at  home. 

We  passed  the  winter  in  Naples,  Florence, 
Montreux,  and  the  summer  in  Switzerland.  The 
autumn  generally  brought  us  back  to  Munich. 

How  I  enjoyed  all  this  I  Just  as  completely  as  I 
had  peacefully  and  calmly  closed  with  life,  I  now 
enjoyed  all  that  which  I  had  won  back  again,  and  to 
the  full. 

I  owe  my  highest  delights  to  nature,  and  two 
wonderful  sublime  moments  stand  out  with  particular 
clearness  in  my  soul. 

The  first  time  was  when  I  went  on  the  funicular 
railway  to  Monte  Salvatore,  and  was  lifted  above  the 
lake  of  Lugano,  a  year  and  a  half  after  my  life  was 
saved.  I  could  not  mount  to  the  summit,  as  walking 
was  very  difficult  for  me,  but  I  sat  just  beneath  it,  on  a 
beautifully  situated  bench,  and  waited  for  Serge,  who 
had  mounted  to  the  top.  Before  me  lay  the  panorama 
of  the  eternal  snow  giants,  from  Monte  Rosa  to  the 
Jungfrau,  in  overwhelming  glory. 

Before  my  soul  arose  the  picture  of  the  woman, 
sick  unto  death,  who  had  been  transported  on  a 
stretcher  to  Berlin,  amid  the  compassion  of  others ; 
and  I  compared  the  picture  of  that  time  with  this,  if 
not  strong  yet  comparatively  healthy  woman,  full  of 
the  joy  of  life,  seated  here,  high  above  mighty  preci- 
pices, allowed  to  stand  above  all  the  petty  doings 

402 


SUBLIME  MOMENTS 

of  the  world,  and  intoxicate  herself  with  the  magnifi- 
cence of  God's  nature  in  an  infinite  feeling  of  happiness. 
There  are  moments  of  excessive  feeling  that  can  only 
be  realised  by  those  to  whom  death  has  appeared,  as 
with  me,  after  a  long  illness,  in  the  shape  of  a  longed- 
for  but  happily  avoided  deliverer.  A  mood  of  such 
near  proximity  to  God,  and  such  gratitude,  cannot 
be  expressed  in  mere  words.  Loving  thoughts  of 
blessing  flowed  too  across  to  my  "second  mother," 
Professor  Olshausen,  to  whom  I  owed  also  this  hour 
of  highest  ecstasy. 

The  second  of  such  very  rare  moments  came  one 
early  morning  on  the  summit  of  the  Wengern  Alp, 
where  we  spent  a  few  weeks  of  the  next  summer, 
which  was  a  very  hot  one.  By  this  time  I  saw  my 
way  more  clearly  in  life,  had  revelled  in  many  entranc- 
ing scenes  in  the  most  distant  south  and  in  the  farthest 
north,  and  thanks  to  the  never-failing  care  of  my 
husband,  had  been  able  to  enjoy  everything  that  love 
and  material  means  could  give.  I  had  got  accustomed 
to  happiness. 

That  night,  far  up  in  the  simple  little  hotel  of  the 
Wengern  Alp,  was  an  exceptional  one.  I  could  not 
sleep  because  the  full  moon,  in  magical  beauty  in  the 
heavens,  threw  an  almost  uncanny  rosy  light  on  the 
mountain  kings  Eiger,  Monch,  and  Jungfrau,  so  that 
the  eternal  snow  glistened  like  gold  dust.  Again 
and  again  this  glory  of  God  drew  me  to  the  window. 
In  the  immense  stillness  of  the  loneliness  of  the 
mountains,  the  thundering  of  the  avalanches,  that 
crashed  from  time  to  time  from  the  opposite  heights, 
was  the  only  earthly  sound.  It  was  as  if  one  heard 
the  breath  of  God,  and  in  deepest  reverence  one's 
heart  stood  almost  still. 

The  highest  and  all-surpassing  beauty  was  yet 
to  be  beheld.  The  moon  paled.  The  next  time 
I  went  to  the  window  a  faint  gleam  lay  over  the 
immeasurable  snow,  and  I  was  about  to  withdraw, 
sighing  that  this  remembrance  also  should  slip  away 

403 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

into  the  past.  My  eyes  were  still  turned  towards  the 
silver  summit  of  the  Jungfrau  when — I  shall  never 
forget  that  moment — the  extreme  point  of  the  summit 
glittered  like  a  gigantic  diamond  in  a  thousand  prismatic 
colours — a  gleam  of  the  rising  star  of  the  morning 
had  touched  it! 

All  around  me  lay  the  pale  light  of  dawn.  Perhaps 
in  that  second  I  had  beheld  a  picture  that  thus,  and 
only  thus,  can  appear  once  at  that  particular  moment 
of  the  year  (as  the  sunrise  always  takes  place  at  a 
different  angle  over  this  summit).  The  spectacle 
lasted  only  one  fleeting  second ;  then  the  king  of 
day  appeared,  dispersing  the  grey  veil  of  the  morning 
in  proud,  glowing  supremacy.  Once  more  I  was 
shaken  to  the  depths  of  my  soul,  thankful  that  I  was 
allowed  to  witness  this,  and  to  enjoy  it  thus.  A 
great  joy  leapt  up  in  my  heart,  which,  more  surely 
than  the  most  fervent  prayer  of  thanks,  penetrated 
to  the  infinite  goodness  of  the  Great  Almighty. 


404 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

In  the  years  that  lay  between  those  most  happy  ones 
of  my  life  and  to-day — when  I  transcribe  these 
reminiscences — I  had  to  pass  through  much  sorrow  and 
the  greatest  difficulties.  Of  these  I  shall  say  nothing. 
Most  of  the  people  who  caused  my  sorrow  are  still 
alive,  and,  as  I  have  learnt  much — very  much — from 
this  bitter  sorrow,  and  as  it  has  always  led  me  to 
higher  development  and  purified  me  to  find  a  deep 
understanding  of  the  logical  guidance  of  fate,  I  will 
bless  even  this  experience,  and  wander  peacefully 
onwards  to  the  end. 

During  these  years  my  spirit  knew  also  much 
gladness,  through  newly  forged  bonds  of  friendship, 
as  well  as  the  meeting  once  more  with  dear  old 
friends  of  bygone  times.  They  all  had  remained 
as  faithful  as  if  we  had  parted  but  yesterday — 
Franz  von  Lenbach,  Paul  Lindau,  Ludwig  Barnay, 
Adolf  Sonnethal,  Felix  Philippi,  Fifi  Gosemann,  the 
Countess  von  Prokesch-Osten,  and  many  others. 
More  especially  I  was  touched  by  the  devotion  of 
women.  There  were,  and  still  are,  some  who,  during 
all  the  years  in  which  life  had  tossed  me  about  in 
wild  struggles,  who  themselves  never  diverged  a  hair's 
breadth  from  the  stereotyped  path  allotted  to  them 
by  prescribed  circumstances,  and  who  were  highly 
esteemed  in  the  elevated  position  they  occupied  in  life, 
welcomed  me  on  my  return  home  as  a  long-missed 
friend  and  "prodigal  son" — as  such  I  had  to  regard 
myself — for  whom  they  gleefully  killed  the  fatted  calf. 

405 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

With  them,  these  truly  refined  and  noble  souls, 
it  is  granted  to  me  to  close  the  evening  of  my  days. 

Among  the  eminent  men  with  whom  later  on  friend- 
ship brought  me  into  contact,  the  genial  Norwegian 
Bjornstjerne  Bjornson  stands  out  for  me  as  the  most 
interesting.  A  truly  magnificent  man,  as  warm- 
hearted and  inspiring  a  poet  as  a  man.  We  made 
his  acquaintance,  and  that  of  his  elderly  but  still 
beautiful  wife,  at  a  time  when  he  had  just  com- 
pleted his  Konig. 

I  raved  about  his  play  Beyond  Human  Power, 
which  had  just  appeared  in  German,  and  placed  this 
wonderful  work  far  beyond  the  Konig. 

This  led  to  a  long  controversy  in  our  own  house. 
He  particularly  recommended  his  Konig  to  me, 
for,  as  with  most  creators,  his  last  work  seemed  to 
him  to  be  his  most  valued  one.  I  often  had  to  read 
it  aloud  to  him,  and  he  drew  my  attention  to  the 
beauties  of  every  part  that  had  become  especially  dear 
to  him.  I  conceded  these  beauties  to  him  very 
willingly,  but  they  could  not  touch  Beyond  Human 
Power.  Then  he  stood  up  before  me,  the  wonderful 
old  athlete,  his  beautiful,  white  curly  hair  standing 
straight  up,  and  the  large  glowing  eyes  flashing 
toward  me,  defending  his  "youngest  child,  whilst 
I  championed  glowingly  his  "  last  but  one." 

We  were  two  enthusiasts,  who  very  soon  under- 
stood each  other  in  close  friendship.  There  was  no 
more  interesting  man  on  earth  than  the  splendid  old 
son  of  the  North  when  he  reared  himself  up,  his 
thoughts  gushing  forth  upon  some  great  idea. 

His  faulty  and  often  most  funny  German,  blended 
with  other  languages,  lent  him  yet  another  and 
especial  charm.  I  shall  never  forget  one  evening 
when  we  were  conversing  on  the  Dreyfus  affair, 
which  was  then  the  great  theme.  It  was  delightful 
to  hear  the  enthusiastic  poet  rave  about  the  work  of 
salvation  that  quite  engrossed  him.  My  husband 
answered  him,   and  the  two  great    orators   offered 

406 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJORNSON 

us,  who  were  allowed  to  listen  to  them,  an  intellectual 
feast. 

Although  agreeing  on  the  main  points,  their 
views  often  strongly  diverged  in  details.  Bjornson 
would  not  see  that  Schwarzkoppen  had  not  been  able 
to  give  up  the  documents  in  question  without  making 
himself  a  traitor  to  Germany.  Serge  defended  his 
manner  of  acting,  and  the  old  Viking,  much  to  our 
amusement,  became  quite  indignant,  and  did  not  spare 
strong  language ;  but  we  had  never  seen  him  so 
human  and  so  eager  over  his  subject.  We  enjoyed 
even  his  coarseness — for  it  showed  his  great  strong 
nature,  which,  wherever  it  entered  the  lists  for  the 
oppressed  and  unhappy,  acknowledged  neither  con- 
sideration nor  reason.  He  fought  like  his  Norse 
forefathers,  hurling  blocks  of  stone  around  him.  Woe 
to  him  who  stood  in  his  way  I  they  hit  without  regard 
to  persons. 

He  was  also  splendid  when  he  spoke  of  his  beloved 
Norway,  and  of  his  aged  mother  (who  lived  still, 
at  that  time,  and  from  whom  he  had  inherited  his 
never-failing  good  spirits),  and  of  the  splendid  patri- 
archal customs  of  his  country. 

We  also  naturally  discussed  Ibsen,  and  I  said 
that  I  could  not  agree  with  the  later  works  of  the 
great  "describer  of  people."  They  seemed  to  me 
unnatural  and  made  up.  I  raved  about  his  earlier 
works,  but  I  only  could  keep  pace  with  him  as  far  as 
Die  Wildente. 

At  first  he  laughed  joyfully:  "You  dare  to  say 
what  I  always  think,  and  never  have  the  courage 
to  express  I  But  you  call  my  great  friend  and  poet- 
colleague  a  ■  describer  of  persons '  ? "  Now  he  became 
quite  serious,  and  the  glowing  eyes  looked  pensive, 
as  if  he  saw  far  out  beyond  all  that  surrounded  him, 
far  into  his  distant  northern  land.  "Yes,  he  has 
certainly  created  types  of  all  sorts  of  men  in  Nora 
and  Rosmersholm,  and  his  most  brilliant  work  is 
Peer  Gynt.    Yet  he  told  the  world  something  untrue 

407 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

when  he  made  them  believe  that  our  Norwegian  folk 
are  such  a  dismal,  brooding,  melancholy  crew  as  he 
portrays  them.  No,  we  are  jolly,  lively  fellows, 
going  forth  full  of  life  and  courage  to  meet  destiny. 
No,  we  are  no  Ibsen  people  1 " 

I  believed  him,  for  as  he  and  his  whole  radiantly 
happy  family  presented  themselves,  the  Norwegians 
formed  a  happy,  sunny  picture.  But  the  old 
grumbler  up  yonder  was  probably  right  also.  Each 
great  poet  regarded  his  people  through  the  medium 
of  his  own  nature,  and  intensified  the  picture  with 
genius  and  art. 

I  made  another  valuable  friendship  through 
Bjornson.  One  fine  afternoon  the  couple  paid  us  a 
visit,  and  scarcely  were  we  seated — he  with  a  little 
glass  of  punch,  and  we  ladies  with  our  cup  of  tea — 
when  Frau  Caroline  began :  "  Listen,  Bjornstjerne 
comes  to  you  with  a  request,  in  which  I  join  him." 

I  looked  at  him  eagerly.  "  Yes,  you  read  Amely 
Skram's  novel  Verraten  with  so  much  delight." 

I  replied,  "  You  can  truthfully  say  '  with  en- 
thusiasm/ just  as  I  did  her  magnificent  and  terrifying 
work  Professor  Hieronymus" 

"  Weil,  the  poor  thing  is  so  dreadfully  unhappy. 
We  have  just  come  from  Copenhagen,  where  we 
found  her  so  miserable  that  she  did  nothing  but 
weep.  You  can  help  her,  Madame  Helene,"  he 
concluded,  and  looked  at  me  convincingly.  My 
heart  beat  high  in  excitement  and  joy.  "  I,"  I  said, 
astonished  ;  "  how  ?  " 

"  Write  to  her,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  but  what  ?  "  I  asked  most  eagerly. 

"Only  just  as  you  are — nothing  very  especial. 
What  she  needs  is  a  warm-hearted  human  being. 
She  is  only  surrounded  by  Da-a-a-nes  "  (he  drew  the 
word  out  with  all  the  mockery  and  contempt  which 
the  Norwegian  has  for  the  sister  nation).  "Write 
to  her  from  the  heart— -from  your  heart.  That  will 
console  her." 

408 


AMELY  SKRAM 

I  was  very  happy  at  this  confidence  in  me,  went 
at  once  to  work,  wrote  to  her  about  her  magnificent 
and  terrible  books,  which  I  knew  from  the  Bjornst- 
j  ernes  were  based  on  horrors  she  had  gone  through 
herself.  I  offered  her  my  close  friendship  through 
the  intermediary  of  our  esteemed  friend  Bjornstjerne 
and  his  wife  Caroline. 

Almost  by  return  of  post  came  her  wonderful 
answer.  She  was  happy,  and  touchingly  grateful, 
as  the  great  poet  had  foreseen,  and  our  correspondence 
grew  more  and  more  intimate.  Her  last  letter  shall 
find  a  place  here.     It  ran  thus  : 

Kjbhavn  (abbreviation  for  Copenhagen), 
Hasersgade  11,  30/4/'97. 

Honoured  and  dear  Woman — What  have  you  thought 
of  me  during  this  long  time  that  has  passed  since  I  received 
your  portrait  and  your  so  amiable  letter  ?  Oh,  I  have  thought 
of  you  so  often,  so  often — have  looked  so  frequently  at  the  two 
faces,  and  was  so  grateful  for  everything — everything.  What  a 
handsome  couple  you  are — you  and  your  husband. 

I  will  try  and  write  in  English,  German  is  so  insupportably 
difficult  to  me.  It  makes  one  sorry  not  to  be  able  to  say  what 
one  wishes,  but  only  what  one  is  able  to. 

Then  followed  in  English  : 

Do  not  be  vexed  with  me  for  having  been  silent  for  so  long. 
I  have  just  passed  through  a  difficult  time — not  only  because  I 
had  such  a  bad  illness,  but  because  all  kinds  of  care  and  misfor- 
tune came  upon  me. 

I  am  trying  to  reproduce  the  original  and  faulty 
expression  of  her  English.     She  continues  : 

There  are  times  in  the  lives  of  people  when  it  seems  that 
one  cannot  bear  it  any  longer,  and  yet  it  is  of  no  use  speaking 
of  it.  Nobody  can  help  the  other ;  we  must  bear  everything 
alone,  quite,  quite  alone — and  try  to  battle  through  it  all. 

Here  follow  a  few  solely  personal  and  family 
allusions.     Then  : 

I  could  not  avert  the  misfortune — no,  no — one  cannot 
help  another — it  is  like  this  in  the  world.     But  you  are  happy, 

409 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

are  you  not  ?  I  can  see  it  in  your  picture,  and  more  still  in 
the  noble  face  of  your  husband.  You  must  thank  him  ten 
thousand  times  for  having  sent  me  his  drama  (this  was  a  modern 
Russian  tragedy  reproduced  in  several  theatres,  and  called 
Elena  Prawdin).  The  piece  is  magnificent,  with  the  exception 
of  the  last  act.  There  are  the  most  beautiful  things  and 
thoughts  in  this  work.  I  read  it  with  breathless  excitement, 
but  the  last  act  ought  to  be  altered. 

My  husband  read  it,  and  is  of  the  same  opinion  as  I  am. 
He  was  very  enthusiastic  over  the  first  acts.  He  would  like 
very  much  to  translate  it  for  the  Danish  stage ;  he  has  translated 
many  plays,  and  he  has  much  luck  with  them  in  Scandinavia, 
and  is  very  well  known  as  a  poet.  He  has  not  written  as  many 
books  as  I,  but  they  are  much  better  than  mine  [an  amiable 
but  hardly  applicable  modesty]. 

The  letter  ends : 

Oh,  my  dear,  unknown  friend,  how  much  I  wish  you  under- 
stood my  language  [Danish],  when  I  could  speak  to  you  so 
much  better  from  the  depths  of  my  heart,  could  tell  you  of  the 
joy  I  felt  on  receiving  your  letter,  in  all  the  warm-hearted 
words  with  which  you  speak  to  me. 

German  now  followed  the  English : 

Why  are  you  ill  ?  you  ask.     Why  ?    Fate  has  willed  it. 

My  constitution  was  so  strong  —  so  strong — otherwise  I 
should  have  died  long  ago.  I  have  suffered  so  much — so  much 
in  my  life,  and  perhaps  I  have  only  myself  to  thank  for  it. 
Everything  one  sees  depends  upon  the  point  of  view.  Yes, 
what  good  can  it  do  ?  One  can't  alter  one's  self.  But  now 
adieu  !     With  a  thousand  greetings. — Your  friend, 

Amely  Skram. 

On  reading  through  my  letter,  I  see  there  must  be  faults. 

Shortly  before  receiving  this  strange  letter  the 
heaviest  sorrow  fell  upon  me.  I  will  not  write  about 
it  here,  as  the  people  who  were  the  cause  of  it  are 
still  living ;  and  therefore  I  will  be  silent  At 
that  time  I  was  in  such  dark  despair  that  I  could  no 
longer  send  cheerful,  life-giving  thoughts  to  Amely 
Skram,  who  was  also  fighting  desperately  against  her 
fate.  Our  correspondence  ceased,  and  a  few  years 
later  Death  too  robbed  us  of  this  clever  woman  and 

410 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJORNSON 

poetess.  During  that  time  of  my  deepest  sorrow 
and  anguish  of  heart  there  was  a  delightful  meeting 
again  with  Bjornstjerne  and  his  high-minded  wife 
Caroline.  They  were  in  Munich  again  for  a  short 
time,  but  I  lived  in  a  little  villa  a  good  way  out  of 
town,  so  that  the  old  gentleman  could  not  reach  me 
so  easily.  I  therefore  inquired  when  I  could  visit 
him,  and  received  the  following  reply  : 

Munich,  4/12/1897. 
Dear  Frau  Schewitsch — Come  when  you  like — our  meals 
are  at  twelve  and  five.  I  go  for  a  walk  now  and  then.  Just 
send  a  card  and  I  will  stay  at  home.  I  understood  everything 
by  your  letter.  You,  with  your  full  heart  always  ready  to 
think  and  hope  for  the  best.  I  understand — I  understand. 
Come  here  when  you  like,  since  I  cannot  come  to  you. — Yours 
most  sincerely,  Bjornstjerne  Bjornson. 

When  I  arrived  there,  and  told  them  of  my  deep 
trouble,  the  two  dear  people  wept  with  me  ;  and,  in 
spite  of  Amely  Skram's  doubts,  their  noble  and  truly 
human  sympathy  helped  to  lighten  the  burden  which 
lay  so  heavily  on  my  sore  heart.  I  am  eternally 
grateful  for  this  hour  to  Bjornstjerne  and  his  wife 
Caroline. 

Yes,  it  was  a  delightful  inspiring  time  when  their 
family  made  Munich  a  sort  of  second  home.  It 
ended  with  the  political  contests  of  Albert  Langens, 
Bjornstj  erne's  son-in-law,  who  was  editor  of  Simplicis- 
simus  when  it  first  came  out.  My  husband,  persuaded 
by  Bjornstjerne,  also  contributed  to  this  paper. 

They  all  left  for  Paris  and  Norway,  and  even  now 
I  miss  the  charming  people  terribly. 

Serge  could  not  so  easily  adopt  the  tone  of 
Simplicissimus,  and  if  he  had  continued,  might  have 
exposed  himself  to  serious  unpleasantness  on  account 
of  being  a  foreigner,  and  especially  a  Russian. 

Therefore  he  dissolved  his  connection  with  the 
publication,  and  turned  to  other  interests.  He  wrote 
a  great  deal  for  important  papers — novels  and  political 
articles — also    composed    many    plays,    which    were 

411 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

performed  with  great  success  at  various  theatres,  and 
which  were  brought  out  under  a  pseudonym. 

One  of  these,  Tania,  fired  Francisca  Elmenreich 
and  Katie  Schratt  with  such  enthusiasm,  that  both 
of  them  included  it  in  their  repertoire  in  America. 

After  many  years'  absence  I  met  Franz  von 
Lenbach  once  more  during  my  last  stay  in  Munich. 
We  found  him  giving  the  finishing  touches  to  his 
palatial  residence  in  the  Louisen  Strasse.  I  had 
known  him  in  his  first  modest  beginnings,  and  he 
now  showed  me  with  great  pride  over  the  splendid 
building,  in  which,  a  short  time  previously,  he  had 
had  the  privilege  of  entertaining  his  deeply  honoured 
Bismarck. 

I  was  quite  touched  when  I  noticed  his  almost 
childish  joy  at  the  magnificence  to  which  he  had 
attained. 

At  that  time  electric  lighting  in  private  houses 
was  something  quite  new.  Lenbach  had  had  it 
installed  and,  "What  a  beautiful  white  light.  It 
shows  up  all  the  colours  better  than  daylight,"  he 
said,  proving  it  to  us  at  once  by  drawing  the  curtains 
and  demonstrating  the  difference.  "If  I  paint  in 
the  evening,  as  I  mostly  do "  he  added. 

"  Why  do  you  paint  at  night  ? "  I  asked  ;  "  that  is 
surely  bad  for  your  eyes." 

"To  earn  bread  and  butter  for  wife  and  child," 
he  answered  laughingly,  and  pointing  with  his  brush 
to  his  beautiful  wife,  who  was  just  entering.  It  was 
his  first  wife,  and  at  that  time  they  were  expecting 
the  birth  of  their  eldest  daughter  Marion  (who  arrived 
a  few  days  later). 

The  master  immortalised  her  later  in  many  of 
his  paintings,  and,  according  to  me,  she  had  inherited 
all  the  delicate  beauty  of  her  mother,  a  beauty  which 
possessed  for  me  an  infinite  charm. 

I  had  hoped  to  be  able  to  show  my  husband  a 
portrait  which  Lenbach  had  painted  of  me  in  my 
youth,  and  which,  although  it  had  never  been  very 

412 


FRANZ  VON  LENBACH 

like  me,  was  extremely  interesting,  and  represented 
me  as  I  was  in  my  twentieth  year.  However,  the 
master  confessed  to  me,  a  little  hesitatingly,  that  he 
had  sold  it  to  a  friend  and  admirer  of  mine,  at  his 
special  request.     There  was  nothing  to  be  done. 

A  photograph  of  this  portrait  was  published  in 
1887  by  Paul  Hennig  in  Berlin  in  the  book  entitled 
The  Sorrows  of  Lassalle. 

Yet  a  few  words  about  the  kindness  of  the  great 
artist. 

At  a  time  when  he  was  very  ill  I  met  one  of  his 
most  intimate  friends  in  society.  The  illness  of  the 
man,  who  was  so  dear  to  both  our  hearts,  was  of 
course  the  chief  topic  of  our  conversation.  Our 
friend,  who  saw  him  daily,  related  how  bravely  he 
bore  his  illness  and  the  presentiment  of  death,  and 
added,  "  With  his  decease  many  a  young  artist  will 
lose  an  ever-ready  helper ;  one  who  never  refused  a 
request  for  assistance,  and  who  responded  bountifully 
to  the  same.  How  many  thousands  have  passed 
through  my  hands  alone  for  this  purpose ! " 

A  short  time  after  this  conversation  the  great 
and  noble  master  departed  this  life.  A  talk  I  had 
once  with  him  when  he  was  in  full  vigour  shows 
how  simple  and  modest  he  had  remained,  in  spite  of 
the  impression  to  the  reverse  he  so  often  made  on 
strangers.  He  asked  me  what  my  chief  occupations 
were,  for,  he  added,  "  I  know  of  old  that  you  are  a 
wonderfully  industrious  woman,  and  are  never  idle." 

"  Theosophy ! "  I  answered  (I  was  then  writing 
my  book  Wie  ich  mein  Selbst  fand). 

"  Oh,  with  old  Indian  philosophy  ! "  he  exclaimed 
at  once. 

I  was  surprised  that  he  knew  anything  about  it, 
for  at  that  time  very  few  people  had  a  notion  of  it. 
I  nodded  affirmatively,  and  he  continued,  "That  is 
nothing  for  me,  for  it  demands  asceticism  and  a 
deadening  of  the  senses." 

"  Not  before  we  are  ripe  for  the  same,"  I  replied, 

413 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

for  the  doctrine  forbids  us  to  act  contrary  to  our 
nature,  as  nothing  would  be  gained  by  it  Man  is 
only  fitted  for  the  highest  development  after  he  has 
passed  through  all  earthly  experiences  meant  for  him, 
not  only  in  this  life  but  in  many  lives  and  incarna- 
tions.    To  this  certainly  asceticism  belongs. 

"I  am  of  the  opinion  of  Schopenhauer  and 
Humboldt,"  I  added,  "that  the  theosophical  point  of 
view — the  knowledge  of  this  wonderful  philosophy — 
makes  one  happier  and  better,  even  when  set  in  the 
midst  of  life,  and  when  the  deadening  of  the  senses 
would  be  an  impossibility."  ' 

Lenbach  had  listened  very  attentively  and  said, 
"Yes,  perhaps.  Very  well,  when  I  have  time  I 
shall  be  glad  to  occupy  myself  with  such  exalted 
things.  Just  now  I  have  none,  because  of  my 
painting  here." 

As  usual,  when  one  visited  him  in  his  studio,  he 
had  not  put  down  palette  or  brush,  and  went  on 
painting.  He  often  used  his  visitor  as  a  model,  if 
only  for  little  touches.  "Not  only  my  painting 
leaves  me  no  time,  but,  as  you  know,  I  am  an 
ignorant,  unlettered  man  of  peasant  origin,  and  I 
devote  every  spare  moment  to  making  this  good.  I 
read  nothing  but  the  ancient  classics,  chiefly  Greek 
and  Roman,  for  I  learn  most  from  them.  You  see,  I 
must  first  digest  these  before  I  attempt  anything 
else, — like  a  schoolboy,"  he  continued,  laughing.  I 
was  touched  by  his  simplicity,  and  the  way  the 
famous  master  spoke  of  his  ignorance  and  willingness 
to  learn.     He  was  great  enough  not  to  fear  smallness. 

In  addition  to  these  celebrities,  another  great 
person  entered  my  life  during  these  last  years,  one 
who  has  often  reminded  me  of  Lenbach,  in  her 
amiable  childlike  simplicity  and  modesty,  Helene 
Boehlau,  Frau  Al-Raschid  Bey.  When  we  first  met 
in  the  houses  of  mutual  friends  we  did  not  feel  in  the 
least  attracted  towards  each  other,  but  rather  repelled, 
until  we  were  both  told  that  our  natures  had  so  many 

414 


HELENE  BOEHLAU 

things  in  common  that  we  ought  to  meet  more 
intimately,  understand  each  other,  and  become  closer 
friends.     And  this  was  true. 

Helene  Boehlaus  strange  husband  was  a  German- 
Russian  subject,  and  became  a  Turk  (Al-Raschid 
Bey)  in  order  to  be  able  to  marry  the  high-minded 
woman  whom  he  dearly  loved.  In  him  I  found  a 
sympathetic  friend.  He  is  a  philosopher,  and 
although  he  objects  to  calling  his  philosophy  and 
comparative  religious  sciences  theosophy  (a  certain 
odium  always  attaches  itself  to  this  word),  it  is  never- 
theless extremely  like  it.  Al-Raschid  Bey  has  his 
peculiarities,  one  of  which  is,  he  always  goes  about  in 
Turkish  costume.  Short-sighted  people  have  made 
fun  of  this,  but  /  understand  that  he  uses  it  as  a  sort 
of  symbol,  or,  better  still,  as  a  visible  demonstration  of 
the  fact  that  he  became,  and  is,  a  Turk,  in  order  to 
be  able  to  marry,  honour,  and  protect  his  beloved 
wife.  Helene  Boehlau  Al-Raschid  Bey  is  quite  a 
wonderful  woman — well  worth  the  sacrifice  of  father- 
land and  prejudices.  German  jurisdiction  would 
have  done  better  to  allow  exceptional  circumstances 
to  hold  good  for  such  an  exceptional  man,  but  this 
was  not  the  case.  I  have  no  need  to  discuss  here 
what  Helene  Boehlau  is  as  author  and  poet,  but  to 
deal  alone  with  the  original  and  broad-minded  woman. 
She  was  brought  up  in  the  city  of  Goethe,  and 
nourished,  so  to  say,  on  his  traditions.  She  appears 
to  me  always  as  a  relict  of  Goethe,  she  is  so  avid  of 
beauty,  so  unconventional,  so  true  and  real.  There 
is  no  pettiness  in  her  nature,  and  no  comprehension 
of  smallness  in  others.  Petty-minded  people  simply 
fall  away  from  her,  and  leave  no  traces  in  her  life. 
But  she  gathers  round  her  everything  that  can  satisfy 
her  craving  for  art  and  beauty,  every  one  who  shows 
talent  in  any  direction.  She  inspires  them  with  her 
own  enthusiasm,  which  is  totally  devoid  of  envy,  and 
she  finds  a  friendly  word  for  every  aspirant  and  an 
appreciative   hand-pressure  for   every  arrive     Thus 

415 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

she  assembles  in  her  house  a  circle  of  distinguished 
people,  and  Germany's  greatest  could  consider  it  an 
honour  to  be  admitted  there. 

In  conclusion,  I  will  touch  on  one  more  friendly 
meeting  which  took  place  at  the  Hotel  Bellevue  in 
Dresden,  where  we  were  staying  during  our  travels. 
While  chatting  at  the  table  d'hote  I  noticed  that 
my  vis-a-vis,  a  short,  active-looking  old  gentleman, 
stared  steadily  at  me.  I  looked  at  him,  but  he 
recalled  no  remembrance  of  any  kind  whatever  to 
me.  A  neighbour  said  to  him,  "Ah,  General,  you 
here,"  just  as  I  was  asking  my  husband  for  a  glass 
of  water. 

The  old  gentleman  seized  the  water-bottle  in 
front  of  him  and  said,  "  Allow  me,  Madam,  to " 

The  moment  I  heard  his  voice  I  exclaimed  joy- 
fully, "Korff!" 

Quite  moved,  he  stretched  out  both  hands  towards 
me  and  exclaimed,  "  Of  course !  I  knew  you  the 
moment  you  came  in,  and  have  stared  at  you  ever 
since,  hoping  you  would  recognise  me.  I  beg  your 
husband's  pardon  a  thousand  times,  but "  (turning  to 
Serge)  "my  name  is  General  Baron  Korff,  and  I 
am  one  of  your  wife's  oldest  friends."  We  were  soon 
all  three  in  animated  conversation.  My  old  friend 
came  to  see  me  in  the  afternoon,  and  all  that 
remained  by  which  I  could  recognise  the  wild, 
brilliant  Korff  of  the  Berlin  days  was  his  charm  of 
conversation  and  his  shrewd  sparkling  eyes.  The  tall 
cavalier,  who  had  been  so  proud  of  his  elegant  figure, 
was  now  a  short,  active,  but  rather  stout  old  man.  He 
was  as  gallant  as  ever,  for  when  I  went  up  to  my 
drawing-room,  after  taking  coffee  in  the  garden,  a 
lovely  basket  of  roses  awaited  me  with  his  card. 
Then  he  came  himself,  and  we  chatted  for  hours, 
conjuring  up  the  old  Berlin  epoch  of  1862-1868  inter- 
woven with  all  its  intellectual  memories.  We  talked 
of  Lassalle  with  sadness  and  deep  sorrow,  talked  of 
all  the  friends  who  had  met  round  the  table  in  the 

416 


BARON  KORFF 

Bellevue  Strasse,  and  of  whom  Korff  had  said  that  he 
was  the  only  one  who  was  not  a  celebrity. 

I  reminded  him  of  a  surprise  he  had  once  given 
me.  I  had  returned  from  a  stay  in  Berlin — it  may 
have  been  in  the  year  1867 — and  on  entering  my 
salon  I  found  an  arrangement  of  plants,  in  the  centre 
of  which  stood  the  wonderful  bust  of  Ferdinand 
Lassalle  by  the  great  sculptor  Begas,  which  I  had 
long  wished  for.  I  could  now  thank  the  General  for 
another  proof  of  friendship,  for  since  he  had  given 
me  the  bust  I  had  not  seen  him  again. 

A  pamphlet  was  to  appear  in  the  'seventies  that 
treated  of  Lassalle's  death  in  a  manner  inimical  to 
me — which  at  that  time  was  nothing  very  unusual. 
Korff  had  found  out  that  this  one  was  especially 
vindictive  and  spiteful  in  tone,  and  my  faithful  friend 
had  bought  up  the  entire  printed  edition,  caused  it  to 
be  destroyed,  and  took  steps  to  prevent  its  re- 
appearance. Only  now  was  I  able  to  express  my 
gratitude  to  him  for  this,  which  I  did,  whilst  pressing 
his  old  wrinkled  hand. 

We  parted,  and  corresponded  from  time  to  time 
until  his  death.  He  sent  me  the  reminiscences  of 
his  travels  brightly  and  cleverly  written.  He  con- 
tinued his  journeys,  which  extended  almost  over  the 
entire  globe,  till  within  a  short  time  of  his  demise, 
and  he  had  the  felicity  of  being  able  to  say  of  himself 
in  his  seventy-fifth  year  :  "  I  was  never  ill  in  my  life, 
and  never  had  any  misfortunes  in  my  life,  except  the 
pain  of  losing,  through  death,  a  few  faithful  friends." 
A  privileged  statement ! 

In  speaking  of  this  happy  friend,  let  me  conclude 
my  memoirs  by  thanking  all  my  other  friends  once 
more  for  every  beautiful  and  inspiring  hour  which 
they  have  contributed  to  my  life.  They  have  assisted 
me  to  purer,  higher  development,  and  the  memory  of 
these  dear  ones  glorifies  the  evening  of  my  life  even 
to  its  close. 

417  2e 


CONCLUSION 

Those  who  have  wandered  with  me  down  the  long 
road  of  my  life,  and  who,  I  hope,  have  approached 
me  in  something  of  a  friendly  spirit,  may  allow  me  to 
repeat  the  question  I  placed  at  the  beginning  of  my 
memoirs  :  M  Had  I  anything  to  tell  worthy  of  interest, 
which  could  help  others  over  a  dark  hour  ?  " 

I  say  once  more,  M  Yes,  I  hope  so  1"  I  think 
that  one  fact  stands  out  in  this  very  complicated  life 
of  mine,  and  that  is,  that  no  one  need  despair  or  lose 
courage. 

Good  human  material  will  and  must  aspire  to 
attain  the  light  in  spite  of  all  hindrances,  and  the 
dark  abysses  of  one's  nature.  These  very  hindrances 
and  obscurities  may,  in  a  fundamentally  healthy 
nature,  be  even  a  spur  to  overcome  them  and  to  rise 
more  quickly  when  the  sun  beckons  with  its  warmth. 
Heredity  may  prove  a  powerful  adjunct ;  my  Viking 
heritage,  with  all  its  drawbacks  of  wild  passion,  be- 
stowed at  the  same  time  a  certain  initial  force. 
Strength,  coupled  with  love,  is  the  highest  attribute 
of  the  human  soul — love  in  its  ideal  sense,  undimmed 
by  sensual  passion,  purified,  and  seeking  to  ally  itself 
with  the  universal  Alliebe. 

As  I  to-day  make  a  comprehensive  survey  of  my 
life,  with  its  clouded  depths,  its  dark  chasms,  its 
flower-strewn  valleys,  its  emancipated  heights,  through 
and  over  all  of  which  my  path  lay,  it  presents  itself 
to  me  as  an  entire  whole.  No  smallest  bypath,  no 
most  obscure  little  corner,  and  no  sunniest  spot  must 

419 


PRINCESS  HELENE  VON  RACOWITZA 

be  left  unmentioned,  for  each  one  helps  to  bind  to- 
gether the  continuity  of  my  life,  to  forge  my  fate, 
and  to  lead  logically  to  the  building  up  of  the  develop- 
ment that  formed  my  present  individuality — myself. 

I  must  confess  that  I  agree  with  Weininger  when 
he  says  that  an  eminent  man  is  naturally  more  super- 
stitious than  a  mediocre  one.  I  believe  that  every 
being  who  crossed  my  path  for  good  or  ill  had  an 
influence  on  my  ultimate  ego  and  infinite  develop- 
ment. I  learnt  something  from  every  one — even  the 
least  of  them,  often  consciously,  more  often  uncon- 
sciously ;  sometimes  only  understanding  the  schooling 
after  long  years,  sometimes  even  not  to  this  hour. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  with  this  deeper  com- 
prehension the  wider  love  of  humanity  has  come  over 
me,  and  constitutes  my  happiness.  I  have  learnt  to 
seek  in  all  those  who  step  into  my  circle  only  those 
qualities  that  can  elevate  and  rejoice  the  soul — to 
ignore  the  lesser  ones,  and  to  act  in  accordance  with 
these  words  of  Goethe  :  "  If  we  were  always  careful 
enough  in  uniting  friends  to  us  from  one  side,  and 
this  the  one  most  harmonious  to  ourselves,  without 
taking  the  rest  of  their  being  into  consideration,  then 
friendships  would  be  far  more  lasting  and  continuous. 
But  generally  it  is  a  fault  of  youth,  and  one  we  do 
not  lay  aside  even  in  old  age,  that  we  seek  another 
self  in  our  friend,  and  demand  of  him  that  only  when 
he  is  at  one  with  us,  should  he  be  able  to  form  an 
entire  whole." 

As  Lord  Avebury  says :  "  Even  if  there  is  a 
skeleton  in  the  cupboard,  it  is  not  the  only  thing 
there." 

I  try  not  to  see  the  skeleton,  but  to  look  for 
beautiful  things  in  the  cupboard.  I  always  find 
them,  and  am  grateful  for  this,  even  if  I  have  been 
reproached  for  a  want  of  real  knowledge  of  human 
nature.  I  am  not  anxious  to  have  it,  according  to 
the  usual  conception  of  the  term,  for  too  often  "  know- 
ledge of  human  nature  "  means  that  one  should  meet 

420 


CONCLUSION 

every  new  acquaintance  with  mistrust,  and  presuppose 
everything  bad  of  him,  until  one  has  absolute  assur- 
ance of  the  contrary.  I  thank  the  gods  that  this 
sort  of  knowledge  of  human  nature  is  entirely  want- 
ing in  me.  I  would  rather  err  a  thousand  times  than 
do  one  single  person  an  injustice.  When,  as  in  one 
or  two  cases,  I  have  discovered  that  I  did  make  a 
mistake,  even  then  I  bear  no  malice,  but,  in  banishing 
the  uncongenial  one  from  my  life,  I  strive  to  think 
that  /  was  not  suitable  to  him,  and  not  that  he  was 
not  suitable  to  me. 

Herein  lies  the  great  art  of  life — to  enjoy  to  the 
full  the  scent  of  the  roses  and  all  other  gifts  of  nature, 
whilst  carefully  avoiding  the  thorns ;  not,  however, 
being  indignant  because  there  are  thorns ;  not  to 
demand  that  people  should  be  as  we  want  them  to 
be,  but  to  love  them  as  they  are,  and,  realising  how 
monotonous  life  would  be  if  we  were  all  alike,  rather 
rejoice  that  their  various  aspects  brighten  and 
illuminate  our  lives  by  a  thousand  new  colours  and 
different  forms.  That  constitutes  the  charm  of 
existence ;  and  in  understanding  the  beauty  and 
delight  of  human  intercourse,  I  greet  every  new 
friend  who  enters  my  life  to-day  with  the  same  en- 
thusiasm as  in  my  first  youth,  and  with  gratitude  and 
strength  I  try  to  rivet  our  friendship.  Many  dear 
kind  friends  call  this  "warmth  of  heart  "and  "uni- 
versal love,"  but  /  know  it  to  be  a  form  of  egotism, 
and  the  true  art  of  life,  for  it  upholds  me  joyfully  to 
the  very  end — that  end  which,  for  me,  means  the 
rising  of  the  sun. 

Hail  to  thee,  O  sun  ! 


THE    END 


Printed  by  R.  &  R.  Clark,  Limited,  Edinburgh. 


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